Come With Me Now
by TodayIsTuesdayToo
Summary: Four months after the disastrous escape from Kingston's prison, Edward has fallen into dark, drunken pit of despair. When he receives a cryptic letter from Tulum, however, he is spurred out of his self-destructive depression and into hope. A Kiddway songfic, because I'm dysfunctionally hung up on this pairing.
1. Torn To Pieces

**AN:**

(Rated T, but this is subject to change. It's Assassin's Creed, so obviously there will be some language and implied sexual content.)

So here's the premise of the story: Three months after finishing Black Flag, I'm still mad about the whole Mary thing. So I decided to fix it for myself. This is how I wish it would have gone down. As of right now, I've planned a six-part story, so expect at least that from me.

Also, this is a songfic. I'll credit the artist at the top of each chapter. The story itself is named for the song by The Kongos, because I can't hear it without envisioning Mary and Edward flying across the deck of the ship, swords blazing. :) (**UPDATE 7/22/14: **Shortly after publishing this story, I was contacted by one of those renegade hall-monitor groups who have taken it upon themselves to police the fics posted on this site. They took issue with the song lyrics I have included in my songfic. Technically it's against the rules, but since I've previously read about a million and one fics that included lyrics and haven't had a problem since their publication 5+ years ago, I assumed nobody actually bothered much with that rule. It would seem that I was wrong, however, and I'll own that. I don't want a fight, but I do feel this story will be lacking without those lyrics. To fix this, I will be editing the songs out of the version I post here, but post it as it was originally intended on my Tumblr writing blog, GreetTheDawn. You can listen to the song while you read the chapter here (which I strongly recommend, wherever you read it,) or read it in its full glory on my blog. But please leave all reviews on this site! The tag for this story will be 'CWMN Full Chapters'. I hope that resolves the issue!)

One last thing, if you're aching for some good Kiddway the way I have been, I _highly _recommend Rose Of The Nile's fic, Hollowed Trust. It's 178k words of ship-satisfying goodness with 2 endings: canon and non-canon, depending on your preference. Check it out sometime. Really.

Now, let's begin…

* * *

**Song: **_Torn to Pieces_ - Pop Evil

Four months after his escape from prison, Edward received a letter.

Anne hadn't made it out of Kingston. A guard had shot her down as she was fleeing with Ah Tabai. Kenway hadn't known her terribly well, but he'd certainly known her well enough to miss her. He found himself, more often than he should, drinking far too much at the taverns simply to drown out the deafening silence that had replaced her gentile singing at the Old Avery as she filled tankards and scorned drunken suitors for the fun of it. Few barmaids had ever lived who possessed the cunning wit and grace of Anne Bonny. Few women of any profession, for that matter. Edward knew he would regret for the rest of his life – however long or short that may be – that he never had the chance to see that woman sail. The tales he head from his cell of Anne Bonny and James Kidd claiming the seas as their own wherever they went… Those stories would always stay with him.

Mary, he had been able to get out. Much to Edward's dismay, however, she had been in sorry condition when they arrived at the assassin camp in Tulum, barely able to move and hardly conscious. Knowing she likely wouldn't survive more than a few days, and being fully aware that he was unwelcome in the company of the Brotherhood, he had said his final goodbyes the next morning and then left for Great Inagua. He'd have given anything to stay with her, but he knew his presence would do her no good. He hadn't wanted her to leave the world worrying about him.

The moment he had found her laying in her cell, all color and life drained for her face, he knew that he was to blame. If he hadn't been so driven by greed, he might have avoided the Templars and the assassins would have been safe. He might have avoided Roberts and the Observatory and, subsequently, prison. He could have saved Mary and Anne, himself, the moment they were captured, or perhaps prevented their arrest altogether. At the very least, both of them would be alive. Their black fates were on his hands, were his burden to bear.

Mary's final words to Edward followed him wherever he went, and that was often to the tavern where the absence of Anne's company and Mary's final promise and request drove him to darker places than he once believed imaginable.

_Do your part, Kenway. I'll be with you. I will._

* * *

Edward awoke from a disturbing dream face-down on a Kingston beach to find Adéwalé looming over him, sitting on an empty crate in the sand. "Captain Kenway. You look like a bowl of plum duff."

Edward rolled over onto his back, his hands covering his eyes. The sun seemed too bright. Could the sun do that? Increase in brightness so sharply? It felt like the light was melting his brain. He pulled himself into what might be called a sitting position if you squinted at him hard enough. He swore and grumbled, "I've got a head for ten…" clutching at his skull.

"Why do you do this to yourself, mate?"

With a strangled laugh, he replied, "Because, my old friend, this is the lot I've earned for myself. I've ruined myself to my wife, turned my crew against me, brought death to every man or woman I ever loved through my own selfish ignorance, and now I have nothing. Nothing and no one." Edward did his best to pry his eyes open and look at his quartermaster. "And when a man has nothing left of value, no one left to stand by his side… that man drinks." His clumsy fingers found a mostly-empty bottle by his side and he thrust it forward as though he were making a toast. Before he could bring the rum to his lips, however, Adéwalé snatched the bottle away, and Edward shot him a muddled glare. "You put me on a spot, Adé. After you leaving me with Roberts, I should have hard feelings about seeing you here." More than that, though, he could have saved Mary and Anne if he hadn't been deserted and then thrown in prison alongside them. In a way, their deaths were on the hands of the _Jackdaw_'s crew just as much as his own. However, even in the darkest pit of his mind, he could not blame Adé. He was a good man doing more right by his crew than Edward ever had. The young captain laughed and let his head hang as he attempted to control the rocking of the earth beneath him. "By mostly, I'm bloody glad."

He heard his friend chuckle. "Me too, breddah…" Adéwalé sighed and was quiet a moment before speaking again. "A letter arrived a week or two back in Inagua for you. From Tulum." The quartermaster held out a folded piece of parchment. "I think you had better read it."

Edward ran a hand through his unkempt hair and was rewarded with a fistful of sand. A bath certainly sounded pleasant at that moment, but that required enough sobriety to avoid drowning, and those terms were simply unacceptable to him. "What could those damned assassins possibly want from me anymore? Destruction and chaos follow me wherever I go, and they know that better than most."

Adéwalé simply placed the letter in Kenway's hand, said, "Read it," and walked away, heading back toward the _Jackdaw, _which sat proudly in the glistening waters of the port.

Edward slumped back into the sand and stared up gratefully at a palm frond that was blocking the impossibly bright sun from view. A vision of Mary's face burned behind his eyes, first of her happy, standing at the prow of her schooner like she owned the whole world, then of her pale and laying on a mat in Tulum, her eyes dull as they searched his in pleading silence – the last memory had had of her. Both images filled him with guilt, pain, and loss. The visions were an inescapable and debilitating agony, though he did thus best to medicate against their effects.

For the longest moment, he laid there and ignored the letter. He didn't want to know what the assassin's had to tell him, because he feared what that might be. He'd kept himself so blissfully ignorant and unthinking, uncomprehending of the information that threatened to overwhelm him if he let his head on straight for any length of time. Mary was dead.

He unfolded the parchment.

There were no words on the page. Simply a set of coordinates and a date, two weeks from the present time.

Edward wasn't precisely sure why – perhaps it was something to do with the 'sense' that Mary had once discussed with him, or maybe it was just the hangover subsiding – but his mind was clearer upon reading those numbers than it had been since Anne and Mary had died.

There wasn't a decision to go. He didn't have to make one. He simply knew that he was going.

It wasn't until several days later, when all preparations had been made and he stood at the helm of the Jackdaw once more, that Edward realized why the letter had spurred him the way it did. He didn't know what he would find at the other end of the short journey, or why he had been summoned, and experience told him it would not be enjoyable. But it had given him a purpose in a time when his life was entirely devoid of any reason or drive to continue. And it felt good.

* * *

**AN:**

This chapter was mainly to get momentum up for the actual story. The meat of it will be in the next chapter, which I promise to publish next Monday (July 28, 2014)!


	2. Oceans

**AN:**

Sorry this is a day late! I know I said Monday, but I was busy yesterday, so… That means you have one less day to wait between, chapters, though!

* * *

**Song: **_Oceans _- Coldplay

"You look better, Captain." Adéwalé remarked. He had agreed to accompany the _Jackdaw_ on this last trip, but he had officially handed in his notice, so to speak. When they returned to Great Inagua, Kenway would have to find himself a new quartermaster.

Edward smiled the smallest bit. It was true, he did feel less depressed than he had when they set sail. Not entirely, not by a long shot. But a little, yes. "Aye. A few weeks at sea would do any decent man some good." He stood at the helm of his ship, right hand wrapped around one spoke of the wheel, left hand clutching the parchment that contained the coordinates of their destination. They had timed their trip well. It was high noon on their specified date of arrival, and Edward knew he was within hours, at most, of discovering the purpose of the cryptic letter.

Edward took another glance at the parchment. He knew nothing of its meaning, or of the location he had been instructed to go to, just that it was sent from Tulum. He felt it was safe to assume the author was Ah Tabai, but there was no way to confirm or disprove that suspicion. He hoped there would be some semblance of clarity by the end of the day.

The wind whipped at his face, biting and clawing, tossing his hair into his eyes. The harshness of it was welcome. It woke him up and put him in his place like a sharp slap to the cheek. The howling in his ears drowned out the memory of Anne's pained cries as she was shot down, Mary's weak and broken pleas for him to leave her in the prison halls and escape with his own life. Kenway blinked against the salty spray of the ocean, trying to wash away the memory of the cold stone floors and cell bars. He could still smell the reek of blood and sweat and shit that had engulfed him for nearly a year.

They reached their destination some time after the sun had peaked and begun its descent back into the sea. At the coordinates specified on the page in Edward's hand sat a small island. The circumference of it was guarded by sharp rocks and steeply jagged cliffs. As far as Captain Kenway could tell, the only safe path up the cliff-face was connected to a sandbar on the east side of the island. The trail was hidden well by boulders and a dense array of vegetation, marked only by a trail of bare dirt pounded into the ground by many feet over many years and, above that, a few broken branches at human-height.

The _Jackdaw_ dropped anchor close to the small stretch of sand and Edward alone swam ashore. A quick survey of the scene told him that, thus far, he was alone. Gripping the hilt of one sword cautiously, he made his way up the trail and into the jungle. He stopped now and then to check for threats and traps, but there remained to be none.

He climbed through the jungle for a good, long while before there was a change in scenery. When he reached what he assumed must be the center of the island, Edward was faced with a clearing filled with many large stones. The oblong rocks were tall, equidistant, and engraved with various letters and symbols. Every one of them bore some variation of the insignia of the Assassin Order.

In an odd moment of clarity, Edward realized he had found the Brotherhood's burial grounds.

The young captain had a hard time believing anyone outside of the Order knew of the place. That knowledge significantly shortened the list of people who would direct him toward it, yet still gave him to clues as to the reason for his trip.

Kenway turned to scan to jungle, crouching behind the tombstones as he crept toward the other end of the rugged cemetery. He searched for any sign of an enemy, but found nothing, save for trees, ferns, and a lone howler monkey high in the canopy.

He walked through the forest of headstones, stooping to examine a few and wondering which of them he had killed in Havana so many years before. His chest ached with a long-overdue guilt, one of several that had started to crop up since his final conversation with Mary. He recognized none of the names, though, which was not surprising. Aside from Read and a few others that he'd helped in the past, he'd spent hardly any time with the Assassins, save for bickering with their elders. Which reminded him…

"Ah Tabai?" he called out, annoyed that he was still alone in the clearing. He'd come, as asked, and punctually for once. It was time for someone else to hold up their end. "Mentor? Are you out there?" Under any other circumstances, Edward would never have announced his presence so raucously. However, he was fully sober for the first time since losing Mary and Anne, and thus he was irritable. More than a week into chasing the mystery note across the West Indies, he was reaching the end of his patience for silence.

That's all his calls were met with, however. Silence.

Frustrated, he ripped the hidden blade off his left wrist and threw it into the ground at his feet. "Damnit!" he shouted into the empty air, kicking the headstone nearest him. "Answer me, you bastard!" There was no response.

That was his limit. Edward resolved to leave, to return to his villa, and to drink. He couldn't believe he'd let himself be lured from his cove. He could've been pissed on the beach right then, but no. He was on a fool's errand in a graveyard of recreational murderers in the middle of a jungle in a no-man's-land corner of the sea. Cursing himself under his breath, he knelt to retrieve his blade from the earth near the headstone he'd kicked a moment earlier.

Something to the side caught his eye, however. He froze.

_Mary Read_

_1692-1720_

Edward staggered toward the words etched into a grave marker several feet away. Sinking to his knees before the stone, he pressed his palm into the engravings and stared at the back of his hand, unblinking. His thumb brushed to the side, making a single word visible. _Mary_.

Such a strange torrent of emotion welled up within the young man that he was entirely unsure how to process it. Some small part of his subconscious had been holding out hope that she might have survived, but now he knew this not to be true. He could feel himself breaking, like that hope had kept him glued together. In its absence, he was in fragmented. His first and strongest instinct told him to reach for the nearest bottle and drink until he couldn't feel his feet, but somehow he knew the only thing that action would earn him was more horrible dreams.

His fingers traced the rugged lines that spelled out his old friend's name. He was overcome with want to trace the lines of her face instead. Oh, the things he wouldn't give for one last chance to touch her, the woman that he had hardly known, yet had felt so familiar with.

Unable to do much else, he laughed. The sound was strikingly heavy and sad. "Mary…" he sighed, letting his hand fall from the stone. "Bloody hell, but do I miss you." His eyes stung, and he pinched them shut.

It was such a waste. Her death was such a waste. The world was in sorry lack of great people like her. It needed her. _He_ needed her. She had always pushed him to be better, more than what he was. He hadn't understood how crucial she was to his world until he realized without a doubt that she was gone. He would never see her again. Opening his eyes to the sun, he welcomed the pain and blindness that came with the act. It was an easy, simple pain with a clearly defined source, unlike the ambiguous agony and lostness that he felt when he looked at Mary's grave.

With desolation in his heart and a lump in his throat, Edward reached down to his belt and pulled out a knife. It was a long, narrow, double-edged thing with a grip of worn dark leather and a large ruby embedded in the pommel. He'd picked it off a Spanish merchant's ship more than a year earlier. It had a rugged, deadly elegance to it. It was beautiful, and it reminded him of Mary. He'd stashed it in his desk at Great Inagua to wait for such a time as he could give it to her as a gift, but he didn't see her again until they were both incarcerated in Jamaica. Kenway had carried it with him at all times after returning home. It was a way to keep Mary with him, knowing deep down that he would never see her again.

He turned the dagger over in his hands, biting back the emotion that threatened to overpower him as he felt himself coming undone. He'd always meant to give it to her, from the moment he'd laid his hands on it. He guessed he finally had the chance, in a way, though it hurt to think of letting it go. It felt like he was letting her go when he wanted only to cling to her like a lifeline. It was right, though. "It's strange how this works, isn't it?" he grunted. "I'm finally ready to be the man I think you believed me to be, and you're not here to see it. Not here to help." He ran his thumb over the ruby one last time before setting it at the base of the headstone like the flowers most would leave at their loved ones' graves. He knew she would have liked it better than flowers.

"I said I'd be with you, didn't I?"

Edward's head snapped up at the sound of a second voice. He recognized the sound instantly, but was frightened to believe what it might mean.

Perched in the elbow of a curved palm tree a short ways off, leaning against the trunk, stood a ghost. Her hair was tossed around her face by the breeze, but through the black locks Edward identified an all-too-familiar face wearing an expression of mingled amusement and offence.

Kenway got angry. Teeth barred and fists clenched, he shouted, his voice full of accusation, "Is it not enough that you haunt my dreams? You must stalk me in my waking hours as well? Leave me be!" He got to his feet and flicked his wrists so the blades attached to them engaged, just daring the hallucination to stick around.

The apparition of Mary narrowed her brow, seemingly confused, possibly concerned. "You alright, Kenway?"

"You should know the answer to that as well as I." Edward snapped, seething, biting.

The vision brushed her hair out of her eyes and dropped from her tree. Edward drew his swords as she came nearer and pointed one at her. "Stay away from me. I don't need your torments. You're gone. Dead! If I must suffer through this world without you, then have the courtesy to let me do so in peace, if nothing else!" His scathing tone turned to an anguished pleading as she drew within reach of his blade. She did not stop.

With a pained cry, he swung, all his desperation and grief driving his blade downward at the apparition's skull.

She didn't vanish upon impact as she often did in his nightmares.

Her wrist flew up catching the flat of his sword with the blade hidden beneath her sleve. With a twist of the engaged knife, she sliced his palm, causing him to drop his weapon into the tall grass around them. Taking advantage of his shocked pause, she knocked his other arm out of her way and elbowed his sternum, gripped the guard of his remaining sword, ripped the weapon from his hand, and threw it off to the side with the other.

She took a step forward over the hilt of one of the discarded blades. Stunned, he stumbled backward until his heel caught the edge of a tombstone. His mind reeled. No matter how drunken he was, he'd never experienced a hallucination that could touch him, much less disarm him.

Mary advanced slowly, hands raised, palms forward so he could see she was unarmed and her blades were retracted. "Blast, Edward, I'm not here to hurt you. What happened to you, man?"

Kenway stared back at her, uncomprehending. "You died. You're dead. I'm standing on your grave. You're not actually here. There's no way you could be."

A smile split across Mary's face and she rolled her eyes, dropping her hands at her sides. "That's what this is about? You think I'm a ghost? That I'm here to haunt you, call you names for the rest of your life?" She laughed, genuinely, and Edward was sure he'd never heard a sound more beautiful.

He took a step toward her, incredulous. He reached out his fingertips to brush her cheekbone, and she held his gaze calmly. Tentative, he let his hand settle around the curve of the side of her face. She leaned into his touch reassuringly. "Mary?" he whispered in disbelief.

"What happened to you, Kenway?" Her eyes searched his, worry creasing her brow.

"You died."

Her mouth pulled up at the corner. "In what world could you get rid of me that easily?"

Edward grinned and let his hand drop to her upper arm. He couldn't take his eyes off her. He couldn't believe she was alive. He was a sinful man, he knew that, but he must have done something right along the way for God to grant him this, the answer to the prayers he'd been too drunk and in denial to say. "Damn, woman. How is it you're not dead?"

"Does that really need explaining?" Mary laughed and returned the greeting, clasping his opposite bicep. Neither of them were very physically expressive about true affection, but they both felt the weight of that simple gesture. It was something they'd always done, even when Mary was only James Kidd to Edward. A touch to the shoulder or arm as an affirmation of the trust they held between them. Trust was a rare commodity among pirates. Even while they constantly disagreed, or occasionally hated each other, they both knew in their bones that they would die for the other without thought, and that they could expect the same in return.

Edward pulled the parchment out of his pocket, its creases worn from the captain's abuse, repeatedly reading and folding and unfolding and reading it again. "This was you, I take it?"

Mary nodded. "Aye. Sent that the day I left Tulum. I needed you to know where to find me, and cryptic instructions seemed the best bet. Ah Tabai's capitalizing on the idea of my ill fate. You'd be surprised how much you can get done when you're dead."

Releasing her, Edward grinned and set a hand on the tombstone beside them, finally beginning to understand. "So all this is just for effect?"

His friend nodded. "Just part of the ruse. This place is known only to Assassins, with a few exceptions, but we wanted to ensure our hides were covered should someone come looking. It might also help stamp out that absurd rumor about me being a woman." She winked and crossed her arms. "Kill Mary Read, let James Kidd pop back up a few months later, guns blazing? Puts my life back to normal, at least."

Kenway laughed. "You have an interesting 'normal', lass."

She flashed a wry grin. "Don't we all, man?"

"Certainly all our friends did." The past tense made his throat burn. Their eyes met and a wordless understanding passed between them. Everyone they had sailed with, started up Nassau and rebelled against the king with, all of them were dead. The ideal of their pirate republic had all but sunk with their companions. They were alone. The last great pirates of the age.

As a result, Edward felt strikingly hollow. Empty. Without aim or purpose.

He knew Mary was different, though. She'd always had grounding in the Assassin Order. She had something to hang her name on and keep her focused. She might ignore and run from her problems often, but she always had the strength to handle whatever flew her way. He'd always admired her for it, but in that moment he finally understood the why she clung so faithfully to her commitment.

"You've been through this before, haven't you?" he asked, bewildered by his realization. It felt like he was seeing her clearly for the first time, much like the feeling he had when she revealed to him that she was a woman two years before. Things about Mary that hadn't fit together quite right before suddenly fell into their proper places. "This isn't the first time you've lost so much."

Mary arched her brow, surprised. "Perceptive, Kenway." She sighed and looked away, off at the trees, remembering days from past. "Years and years ago, I met this man in the Navy. A remarkable fighter, not too hard on the eyes, either. He caught me dressing once. Kept my secret, bless him. When our commissions were up, he asked me to marry him. We bought an inn… We were happy." She huffed and looked back to Edward. Her fawn-brown eyes were heavy, sad. She spoke slowly and evenly, and Edward knew her just well enough to know that meant she was masking a great deal of emotion. "He died two years after our wedding. His family wanted nothing to do with me after that. They said I was _uncivilized, _which may have been true, but they really meant that I was an unwelcome burden. I had very little money of my own, and I'd borne them no children." Something in her expression broke at the last word. "There was nothing left for me in that place, so I went back to the Navy, met Ah Tabai and hitched my cart to the Assassins. Then later I went to Nassau with the pirates after the war ended. When all else is gone, the sea always remains." Her hand drifted absently to her stomach – now flat and empty – as she spoke of things lost. It couldn't be clearer that her mind was with her daughter, taken so quickly from her.

"That's why you called for me, isn't it?" Edward inferred. "You're ready to set back out to sea."

Mary grimaced. "They sank _The Revenge_ off the coast of Jamaica. Not that I'd try to retake her if she were still floating. I'm strong enough to fight, but not quite enough to win the respect of a crew."

Edward smiled slightly. "Well, there's always room on the _Jackdaw_ for a proud sailor willing to share their talents."

She smiled back. "So you'll have me?"

"Oh, I have my conditions," He smirked and crossed his arms. "It just happens that I find myself in search of a new quartermaster."

Mary snorted knowingly. "Has Adéwalé tired of your shit at long last?"

Edward narrowed his eyes in warning, but took the jab with good humor. She was actually spot-on and he couldn't deny that. "If you want to sail with me, it's on you to keep my men in line. If those terms are acceptable, it would be an honor to have you on my crew until you're fit to captain a vessel of your own again."

Mary smirked. "Twist my arm, then." She clapped him on the shoulder. "Sorry about your hand, by the way." Her fingers dropped to his wrist, turning over it so she could examine the torn flesh of his palm. Blood had pooled in the creases of his skin and stained the already dirty hem of his sleeve.

"I've had worse," he insisted pridefuly, but flinched all the same when she touched it.

Mary let his hand drop from hers. "Tell you what, I'll patch you up myself when we get back to your ship. We've got to stop by my camp first, though. I'd rather not leave without my favorite pistols."

Edward grunted in agreement and stooped to retrieve his sword, as well as the jeweled knife he had lain before Mary's false grave. He tucked the dagger into its place on his belt. He didn't feel that the moment was right to give it to her, not yet.

As he followed Mary into the jungle, a minor realization hit him. "Hold on, if you have a camp somewhere, why did we not meet there instead of a graveyard? Did you _want _me to think you were dead?"

She through her head back in laughter at Edward's betrayed expression. "That _was_ the plan, but _you _took a wrong turn! I had to come looking for you, case you'd been eaten by a jaguar."

"Maybe you wouldn't have had to if your letter had been a bit more specific," he retorted, defensive.

"Worked out for me anyway," she continued, thoughtful, with a triumphant smirk. "Made my month, watching you snivel over my grave… I had no idea you cared _so much, _Kenway," she teased, throwing him a playful wink.

His cheeks flushed with embarrassment and he ran his thumb over the ruby in the pommel of the knife on his belt. He was silent for a moment before muttering. "Guess that makes you an ignorant fool, then."

* * *

"Master Kidd!" Adéwalé called down from where he stood behind the wheel of the _Jackdaw _as Edward and Mary climbed on deck of the brig. "Imagine my surprise when I spotted the captain crawling out of the jungle with you at his heels. One does hear rumors… I am gladdened to find that those about you hold no truth!"

Mary laughed as she climbed the steps to the helm, tightening the knot in the soaked wrap that held back her otherwise sweeping black hair. "As am I, mate."

Edward smiled and clapped Adé on the shoulder. "We bring good news, mate." He held his hand out toward Mary. "Jim here has agreed to take up the post of quartermaster once you've left our fine vessel."

Adé chuckled lightly, clearly pleased with this new development, and addressed Mary. "I am pleased to hear that that Edward will have a man of sense around to keep him grounded after I depart for Tulum."

Mary arched her brow, surprised and delighted. "You'll be joining the Assassin's then?"

"Aye, if you lot will have me. I'd like to do some good for this world while I yet have my youth."

"We're always eager to welcome strong fighters and good-hearted men like yourself to our cause. I'll put a word in with the Mentor, myself, if you'd like." She smiled encouragingly. "We'll be brothers before long, I reckon."

Adé nodded gratefully. "It would be much appreciated, Master Kidd." Turning to Edward, he remarked, "That's a right nasty cut you've got there, Captain. What happened?"

Mary smirked triumphantly. "I did."

Edward twisted his blood-caked hand to allow his first mate a better look. "Aye," he confirmed. "James, er, took me by surprise in the jungle. We're going to get me patched up down in my quarters. Have the men set a course for Yucatan. And see to it we're not bothered.

"Aye, Captain," Adéwalé nodded before turning to face the main deck. "Ahoy, lads! Unfurl those sails! We make heading for Tulum! Do you hear the news?"

* * *

"There you are. Good as new! Well, good enough, anyway." Mary smiled down at Edward as she knotted the ends of the bandage she had wrapped around his new stitches. She was perched on the edge of the massive desk in the captain's quarters, her legs dangling on either side of the chair he sat in while she sewed his hand back together. They'd been talking while she worked on him, catching each other up on the events that had transpired since they'd last spoken, nearly two years before. Mary told him the details of her partnership with Rackham and Anne, and Edward regaled his ill-fated mission to the Observatory.

Edward reached up and cupped her face with his free hand, his eyes drinking in her whole form incredulously, hungrily, possessively. He didn't want to let her out of his sight, not for one moment. "I still can't believe you're alive," he muttered dazed and dreamlike.

She placed her hand over his, holding it to her cheek, rubbing the back of it reassuringly with her thumb. The skin of her hands was rough, scarred from battle, and strong as a man's, but her small fingers moved with the dexterity and care of someone who had been tying and untying ship knots since their youth. "Neither can I, some days. I could feel it, you know. I had one foot in the grave and I knew it. It was the strangest sensation…" She sighed, her eyes cast down. Her thoughts seemed distant. "Still don't know what brought me back. Bloody miracle, that was." She smiled softly at the floorboards. "Guess I'm still needed here for something."

Edward tilted her head so she'd have to look at him. "Well, that's got to be to the most obvious thing I've ever heard come out your mouth."

"Is it now?" she challenged with a distracted smirk.

"Of course it is." His hands dropped to grip hers and gave them a reaffirming squeeze. "As long as I'm around, I can promise that you'll always be needed."

Mary chuckled lightheartedly. "You'd best not go kickin' off then. You might just be the only thing keeping me in this world."

Edward didn't laugh with her. "I'm being serious, Mary. When I thought I'd lost you, when I thought you were dead… I've never fallen so low in my life. And to think you'd died seeing me as nothing more than that same green boy, playing at piracy, nothing more than a power-hungry lout driven only by his lust and gold—"

"Oi!" Mary cut him off sharply. "I never saw you that way. It may have been how you acted, or who you were when you first set foot in Nassau, but I always knew you weren't a simple man, Edward. Simple pleasures were only going to keep you interested for so long. There was always more to you than your greed, even if you won't believe it, yourself."

He held her gaze and was quiet for a moment before releasing her hands. He pulled the ruby knife out of his belt and pressed it into her right palm, wrapping her lithe fingers around the hilt with his own. He saw in her gaze that she made the connection between the object in her hands and the one she'd seen him set before her grave. "I pulled this off a ship well over a year ago. It was one of the last prizes I took before I ventured to the Observatory. The moment I spotted it, I wanted you to have it." He ran a fingertip along the edge of the blade. It was so sharply honed that it could have cut through silk, he thought. There was a bead of blood on his finger when he pulled it away. "It's deadly and simple, but also beautiful," he muttered with a small smile at Mary. "It seemed a fitting weapon for an assassin of those same qualities."

Mary's eyes were soft as she turned the dagger over in her hands feeling the leather grip beneath her palms and tracing the edge of the jewel in the pommel. "I think I'll call it _Venganza_. It's what the Spanish called my ship. If I'm going to get my revenge on that bastard Templar, Torres, for hunting my people and taking my child, it's only fitting that I do it with a blade of that name."

Edward looked away for a moment, thoughtful, then sighed. "When we dock in Tulum, I think I'd like to stay for a while. I couldn't count how many mistakes I've made, how many people I've hurt, but I'm finally ready to right some of the wrongs my actions have caused. And I'd like to start with the Assassins."

Mary smiled softly. Her expression was one of unbounded pride. "I always knew you'd change course."

* * *

**AN:**

Come back next Monday for chapter 3! Please review! Feedback is always welcome.


	3. Siren

**AN:**

I realize this is a week late. I want to apologize for that. My baby sister had brain surgery last Monday. She's doing incredibly well, but I needed to take a week off from lots of stuff, not just fanfiction.

Chiari Malformation awareness, whoo!

In other news, I'm moving my update day to Tuesday, because Mondays sufficiently suck ass already without the added stress of self-imposed deadlines.

Also, I'm changing the rating to M because, let's face it, Assassin's Creed just wasn't meant to be T. It'll be more fun for all of us this way, trust me. I intend to keep it fairly clean as far as explicit content goes, but I'm taking the kid-gloves off in a few other ways.

* * *

**Song: **_Siren_ - The Graduate

Edward leaned against the wall of the hut, just outside the door. "Mary?" he called inside. "You in there, lass?" He glanced across the small swamp to another hut – lifted, like all the others, high off the ground by scaffolding – that he shared with Adéwalé. His roommate and ex-quartermaster waved at him from the path to the cove, indicating that the captain should hurry. Their Mentor would be waiting for them at the _Jackdaw_. Kenway gave the man a curt nod, indicating that he should go on ahead.

"Aye!" A response came from within the hut. "C'mon in, Edward."

He ducked through the curtain that was draped across the hut's entrance. Mary was across the round room, standing over a bowl of water on the table that she was using to rinse mud and other grime from her arms. She'd spent her morning assisting in the training of several newer recruits to the Order. Her coat, vest, and shirt were laid out neatly on her cot, leaving her exposed on top, save for the long strip of cloth she wrapped tightly around her torso to keep her chest bound flat. Her hair was down, cast loosely around her shoulders and across her collarbone in a way that Kenway found very distracting. He respectfully, if reluctantly, looked away.

"We about ready to leave?" Mary asked as she crossed over to the wall where she hung her blades and pistols.

Kenway nodded and sank into a chair by the bed while his quartermaster checked various pouches for gold and ammo and the like before strapping them to her belt. There was a set to her mouth that he didn't like. It was calculating, grim, serious, a look he hadn't seen since she'd chewed him out that one morning in Great Inagua after Nassau went under. "Aye. I checked with Abbott this morning. He tells me we've got enough supplies to last us a month or so at sea. We'll have to restock the hold when we next make landfall if we plan on chasing down all our targets before coming back home, but we're fine enough for now. The crew will be at on deck at the ready within the hour."

Mary pursed her lips and strode over to her cot to shrug into her shirt. "Have we heard from Antó yet?"

Edward nodded and laced his fingers over his stomach, relaxed. "Aye, he's expecting us by the end of the week. Says he has a few good leads as to where Rogers will be during the next few days."

"And what of Torres?" Mary pressed, thoughtful, as she fastened her vest.

"All reports say he's in Havana, as he has been for several months. No word yet on Roberts, since I know you were about to ask." Mary frowned at this and Edward leaned forward in his chair, handing her her coat. "Are you alright, mate? You've been on edge ever since we decided to leave."

Her eyes flashed to his, seeming black in the limited light of the hut, just light enough for him to read the calculating, planning expression they held. Mary was exceptionally talented at keeping her cool, but she was also intensely passionate. Step in her way while she was on a mission and she would cut you down without a bat of an eyelash. Edward had grown to love that about her. When it wasn't directed at him, of course.

"These rats that we're hunting," she seethed. She was more than ready to end the long fight, that much was clear. "They are everything that is evil in this world and more, and that's without even mentioning that they took my child. When I recovered, Edward, the first thing I did was search for her. You know what I found? Torres. One of Antó's men told me that Spanish shanker took my daughter straight from the doctor's arms. That's the last anyone saw of her for certain." She yanked her belt into place and fastened it around her waist. Frustrated, she hissed, "I don't know what they've done with her. They could have killed her. They could be keeping her alive to raise into the Templar Order. I'm not sure which would be worse."

"We can't be sure they still have her, you know. I don't see a man like Torres troubling himself with a small girl just to spite his enemies. It's more likely that he sent her off to an orphanage somewhere we wouldn't think to look and washed his hands of it." Edward wasn't sure he believed his words, but he always was temperately optimistic (if cocky or injudicious) one in their discussions. Mary was a sound voice of reason in all things, but her harsh rationality wasn't entirely practical in that situation, he thought, though he knew she would disagree.

Mary sighed heavily. "It doesn't matter right now, though. We have a job to do. I'd like to cut these bastards down before they suck up any more of my sea's perfectly good air."

Edward handed her the red cloth she used to wrap up her hair. "We should head down to the cove. Ah Tabai and Adé are waiting to send us off." He stood and offered her his arm.

Mary scoffed mischievously as she finished tying her hair back. "When are you going to learn, Edward?" Ignoring his gesture, she strode coolly over to the door and turned back to look at him. "I may be a woman but I'm far from a lady." With a playful wink, she dropped down out of the shack.

Edward dashed through the long curtain to see her already halfway down the path at a flat-out sprint. Just inviting a chase.

He couldn't help the warm smile that crossed his face. Mary was remarkable, challenging, and frustrating, saving him from himself time and time over, and damn it if he wasn't absolutely mad about her.

* * *

A few short days later, the _Jackdaw _dropped anchor in Kingston and sent word of their arrival to the bureau. Arrangements were made for a meet in the evening.

"Captain Kenway! Captain Kidd!" Antó hailed the pair when they reached the stretch of beach where they had agreed to rendezvous.

"It's just Kidd," Mary corrected and clapped her Assassin brother on the shoulder. "I'm sailing under this here lout now." She nodded to Edward, who elbowed her good-naturedly with a fond smile. The two of them had been getting on quite well since they'd set off from Tulum. The captain had been more than pleased to find that they worked so well together when their aims were in tandem. It was much more enjoyable than fighting, thought that could be fun at times, as well.

Antó grinned. The Assassins seemed glad all around that the once-rogue Kenway was folding into their mix so seamlessly. "I imagine, though, that you govern that vessel with just as broad a grip as he."

"You'd be right about that," Edward confirmed, proud and approving. Mary reigned with a harsh voice and a soft hand aboard his brig, and the crew both loved and respected her for it. She'd made life on the _Jackdaw_ simpler and more efficient for them all. The woman was a master sailor and the whole crew knew it, though they still thought her a man. "Speaking of governors, do you have something for us?"

Antó nodded. "The present whereabouts of the Templar Woodes Rogers. He's attending a small political function, so do it clean."

Edward smirked. "The word is King George is calling Rogers back to London."

There was a subtle, gleeful twinkle in the Maroon Assassin's eye that betrayed his otherwise composed demeanor. "Aye, not too happy with his progress in Nassau."

"Still too many pirates roaming about from what I hear." Mary chimed in, crossing her arms, her expression smug.

Antó smiled. "You two will need a disguise to fool the powderheads at this party. I suggest the visiting diplomat, Ruggiero Ferraro, and his wife, Cortessa. They've been on our lists for some time." He pointed to a fine schooner sitting in the harbor, too rich in appearance to have belonged to a merchant. "That there is your prize, the _Santa Bianca_. You'll find your targets aboard. The gathering is in about an hour, so you'd best hurry."

"Understood," said Edward, but he paused. With an uncertain glance at Mary, he pulled a letter out of his coat. He'd drafted it a few days earlier, deciding it was time to finally fix things back home. His last few months with Mary and the Assassins had proven to him that he truly was ready to tie up the loose ends he had cut loose in his youth. He was ready to be a better man. "Will you send this to England for me?" he asked Antó.

The other man nodded. "Aye. A ship leaves tomorrow."

Edward handed over the letter. "Caroline Scott-Kenway. Hawkin's Lane, Bristol."

Mary shifted her weight to her other foot, but said nothing. Edward tried to tell himself that she wasn't one of the reasons he was doing this.

* * *

Edward held his robes out in front of him; his Assassin robes, not the red coat he was now wearing, courtesy of the Italian diplomat lying dead on the floor. He remembered when Ah Tabai had returned them to him as he departed Tulum on the day he'd thought was the last he would spend with Mary. _'You haven't earned these… but they suit you.'_ Those had been his words, thought Edward knew what he'd really meant by them. _'Mary would want you to have these.'_

Pushing that difficult memory from his mind, he straightened Ruggiero Ferraro's robes on his shoulders (the coat was a bit too narrow) and folded his own over his arm before making his way above deck. It was time to finish his long dispute with captain Woodes Rogers.

The crew of the _Santa Bianca _had been locked in the hold until the completion of the mission to prevent anyone from escaping and alerting the guards to the Italian diplomat's murder. Edward didn't need people asking why a dead man was attending a party. Several of Kingston's finest Assassins were roaming the deck to give the illusion of a manned ship, just in case anyone on shore was looking too closely at the harbor.

The Maroon guarding the Ferraros' personal quarters took Kenway's own clothes from him for safekeeping and opened the doors to allow the young captain entry.

"Mary?" Edward called out as he closed the door behind him. A frightened-looking servant girl nearly collided with him as she swept past, a voluminous green gown in her arms. The young woman stammered apologies in Italian that he didn't understand as she ducked behind a dressing screen, pointedly not looking at her former mistress' body, propped in a chair, as she stepped around it. Mary had been efficient in her end of the ship's seizure, it would appear.

"Almost ready," her voice came from behind the screen. There was a small grunt and a stream of swears directed high-class women's clothing. Edward heard the sounds of fabric being tugged on and the heavy footfall of someone staggering against a pull on their own weight. He leaned against a desk and waited patiently for the maid to finish lacing his quartermaster into her disguise. To pass the time, he played with the mechanisms in his hidden blades, watching them engage and disengage and he flicked his wrists in different ways.

After a few minutes, the sounds of protest behind the screen stopped and Mary stepped out into the room. Edward nearly cut himself.

Her emerald-green dress was floor length with sleeves to her elbows, a little off the shoulders, and had a low-cut front. The skirt and sleeves were embellished with gold thread. Her hair was tied back loosely with a thin, red ribbon and her skin had been powdered to give her the air of an upper-class socialite woman instead of a sailor who spent their days laboring under the bright ocean sun. Not much could be done to hide the scar that ran across her right eye, but it wasn't so prominent against the makeup she was wearing. There was no hope for covering the tattoo on her chest. Her lipstick was vivid red, like blood. Because he knew Mary, he had to think it all very ridiculous, but the objective observer of women in him could think of nothing to say other than that she was beautiful.

He straightened, pushing away from the desk, and watched as Mary fussed with the folds of fabric at her sides that gave her hips the appearance of a wider breadth. The serving girl danced around them nervously, gathering Mary's own discarded clothes and casting them fearful glances, like they might slit her throat if she breathed too heavily.

Mary gave him an inquisitive look, seeking his opinion. Kenway responded with a wistful once-over glance at her figure, normally quite firm and boyish, made to seem supple and voluptuous by the shaping corset and tight-fitting bodice she now wore. "Hell, Mary. I liked you well enough as a man, but if I had to choose…"

"I should've dressed as your guard or something more practical. Anything but a proper woman," she grumbled, ignoring his assessment and clawing at the constricting laces on the back of her outfit. "The corsets are bloody fucking tight."

"I'm more worried about you being unarmed than uncomfortable." He stepped forward and reached out to touch the long cuffs that hung from her elbows. "These won't exactly hide your wristblades."

Mary raised an eyebrow, as if asking how he could possibly think she'd be so foolish as to be unarmed in any moment. She hitched up her skirt, revealing _Venganza _strapped to her boot. Of course she was still wearing her boots under that gown. Edward nodded and she let the fabric fall back into place. "It's not ideal, but it'll do if we get ourselves in a spot."

"Take this as well, then." Edward pulled a small throwing knife no bigger than his ring finger out of his belt and handed it to her. She slipped it down the front of her dress into a tight space between her corset and bodice where it wouldn't slip. "A dagger could be risky in hand-to-hand while you're in that dress, so strike 'em down from a distance if you can."

Mary arched her brow, a small, humored smile lighting her face. "You think you can give me combat pointers, do you? Are you forgetting who taught you to throw a knife in the first place?" She crossed her arms and lifted her chin, accenting her point.

Edward smiled fondly at the memory. It had been in Nassau, shortly after its establishment as a pirate republic and his own defection from privateering. He'd been wandering the swamps, exploring his new haven, when he'd happened upon a young boy he'd believed to be no more than 16 at the time, sticking knives in trees from 50 paces. Having never learned, himself, Edward had asked the lad to show him how it was done. What ensued was an arduous and frustrating evening of missed targets set to the tune of Kidd's mocking instruction and playful jeers. By the end of the night, though, James had proven himself an effective tutor and a capable fighter with a wit sharper than his wide variety of blades. It had set the stage for a fruitful and fond (if occasionally explosive) friendship.

"Well, if your weapons should fail, you can cut them down just as easily with your words. Or that smile…" he muttered, teasingly brushing her check with his knuckles. He tried not to let his fingers linger. She looked so tempting, even if the whole outfit was rather gaudy, particularly for Mary.

She batted his hand away with a friendly warning glare, and he reminded himself that this was his best friend, not some Betty in a tavern to be charmed by the size of his pistols.

He offered her his arm. "Now, if you're ready, we do have a party to attend."

She reluctantly laced her arm through his, settling into character. The maid passed her her clothing to be left with the Assassins for collection later, and in exchange Mary tucked a small purse of coins into the girl's hand. Compensation for her troubles, though Edward knew Mary enjoyed sharing what wealth that piracy afforded her.

* * *

"Salve!" Edward called in greeting to the guards as they approached the party venue. He felt Mary stiffen on his arm. Catching the attention of these men usually led to a fight. It went against both of their instincts to smile and wave hello to them. Laying on an accent, he continued, "Forgive the lateness of our arrival. I am Ruggiero Ferraro, and this is my wife, Cortessa."

Once of the guards gave them a lazy nod, not seeming to care too much about their punctuality, or lack thereof. "Aye, Mister Ferraro. Not a problem." Another guard waved them through.

It was all too easy to locate their target. He stood at the top of the stairs leading up to the gazebo that sat proudly in the center of the garden. A glass was raised in his hand, and it was obvious from his posture that it was not his first drink of the evening.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the man shouted raucously. "A toast to my brief tenure as governor of the Bahamas! For, under my watch, no less than three-hundred avowed pirates took the King's Pardon and swore fealty to the crown!"

Mary scoffed and turned to whisper in Edward's ear, "A great deal that means. I took the Pardon and got right back out on the sea. Kept the dogs off my scent for a few weeks, though."

Edward smirked, turning his head to face her. Her warm brown eyes, inches from his, glittered with amusement at the irony that their campaign to end piracy had just as much helped as hindered her own piratical endeavors. Pride warmed his chest at her mettle.

Rogers then finished toasting the king's poor health and began to mingle with his guests. Edward began leading Mary by the arm through the crowd after the captain.

"We need to get him away from the party so we can question him about Roberts without prying ears," Edward muttered. "I'm open to suggestions."

Mary kept her gaze forward, but he had fought and now trained alongside her long enough to tell by the way she held her head and shoulders that she was using the Sense to scout out optimal secluded spaces in the gardens. She wasn't quite as naturally gifted with their Other Eyes as he himself was, and she had to work harder to see the same things he saw, but she took every chance she had to develop the invaluable skill. "There's a bench on the far side of the house that I fancy. Rumor has it that our poor friend Woodes found himself on the wrong side of Mrs. Rogers' scorn some years ago, but he's kept their separation secret until quite recently, for political reasons that are now… no longer relevant, after his dismissal. I'm sure a lonely man like him wouldn't object to some _private _time out of sight of the party." She flashed Edward a wink and a subtle smile.

He responded with a coy grin. "Oh, he won't object. Not to you. Not if he has a pulse."

That comment elicited a laugh from her.

The pair swung closer to where Rogers was griping to yet another partygoer about the injustice of his dismissal.

"Are you certain the man won't recognize you?" Edward asked, slightly concerned. "He was at your trial."

"It was five minutes nearly a year ago," Mary countered. "It wasn't like we were properly introduced. I'm more worried about _you_. You're the one he's got it out for. Stay out of his sight, or he might make me."

"I hear you." Edward nodded. "I'll be waiting by the bench. Don't take too long. And don't let him get too comfortable with you." With a teasing smirk, he let her arm slip from his and steered himself around the edge of the building.

* * *

From his seat on the bench, Edward could not see the party. Even its sounds seemed distant and incoherent. Yes, it was an ideal location for carrying out a contract, but the waiting was excruciating. It gave him a sense of helplessness, like he was cut off from the mission. Mary could land herself in trouble and he might not realize it until it was too late. He knew it was unlikely, and she was one of the most competent fighters in the West Indies, anyway. She'd probably shave off clean if there _was_ a brawl, but he hated just sitting there, not knowing.

Much to his relief, a familiar voice drew nearer after not too long, joined by a second familiar – but far less welcome – voice.

"… and I must pack up my sword collection tomorrow to prepare for my journey home, but I suppose I could give you a special, last-minute viewing." Rogers' words were laden with swank and pride and lots of drink. Edward turned and ducked his head as they rounded the corner.

"Maybe I'd like that… How big are they?" Mary this time, her voice sultry and suggestive. Edward took a start at her tone, and it occurred to him that he'd never heard her try to be alluring before. She was surprisingly good at it, he thought, more convincing than most whores he'd been with. He was so thrown by that observation that he almost missed his mark.

"Yes, large and powerful enough to frighten a delicate little lady like yourself," Rogers boasted, playing into her hand like a trained dog.

Edward's hand flashed forward, burying his engaged wristblade up to his palm in other man's side as he walked in front of the bench. Without blinking, Mary gripped their target by the arm and waist and eased him down to sit next to her captain.

The blonde Assassin leaned in as Mary took a seat on the other side of the dying man. "She's hardly delicate, mate," he hissed tauntingly in Rogers' face.

Rogers sighed heavily, seeming more annoyed than angry. "Kenway. Of course it'd be you. I dedicate my life to mopping up the infestation that pirates are, only to be slain by their ringmaster as my great career draws to a close. How fucking poetic."

Edward frowned, almost saddened by the misguided man bleeding out in front of him. "You were a privateer once. How is it you lack so much respect for sailors only trying to make their way in this world?"

"You couldn't possibly understand my motives, cretin!" Rogers spat. "You, who have spent a whole lifetime dismantling everything that makes our civilization shine!"

"But I do understand! I've seen the Observatory and I know its power. You'd use that device to spy and blackmail and sabotage."

"Yes, and yet all for a greater purpose," Rogers insisted, his breaths becoming increasingly labored by the word. "To ensure justice! To snuff out lies and to seek truth!"

Mary, who had been silent until that point, muttered, "There's no man on Earth who needs that power."

"Yes you suffer the outlaw Roberts to use it," Rogers argued.

Edward shook his head. "No, we're taking it back. And if you tell us where he is, we'll stop the man."

Woodes Rogers laughed, and the sound was tired. World-weary. "Here at the edge of a blade, I find a friend in you at last. Príncipe, you mad bastard." Resignedly, the man drew in his final breath. "Our best sources say Príncipe…"

There was a frightened gasp to Edward's right and he twisted to see a young couple standing in the path.

"What's happened? Is captain Rogers hurt?" the girl questioned, frantic. "Is it a revolt? What happened?"

The boy, though, saw the engaged blade on Edward's arm. "Guards! Murderer!" he shouted. "That man there! The Italian! He did it!"

Without a moment's pause, Mary pulled her ruby dagger off her leg and ripped at the fabric on the front of her skirt. Edward leaned over Rogers' corpse to help her, tearing her legs free of the restricting dress before pulling the hidden blade off his left arm and shoving it into her hands.

"Split up. Meet me back at the bureau," he hissed.

"See you on the other side." With a small smile she dove east down the road, slipping the blade on as she ran. He turned and sprinted west.

* * *

Antó was waiting when Edward reached the Assassin encampment. Mary was nowhere to be seen, but he knew better than to worry.

The Maroon opened the sack that sat on the ground by his chair and pulled out two sets of clothing, which he laid atop a table.

"It's done," Edward grunted as he picked up his own Assassin robes.

"Where now?" the older man asked.

"We're sailing for Africa," said Edward as he undid the clasps on Ruggiero Ferraro's coat. "Send word to my men, would you? Have them stock the ship, prepare for the journey."

"Aye." Antó nodded and left without another word.

When Edward was nearly finished changing, Mary dropped from a rooftop looking out of breath, the ragged tails of her dress dragging in the dust and her scraped knees exposed where they had cut the fabric in their escape. Her hair had fallen out of its ribbon and was cast around her face, matted in places with blood that was clearly not her own. With an angry huff, she took the knife in her hand and ripped the front of her already tattered dress from bust to knee, shrugging out of it like a coat. Striding forward in her undergarments, she dropped Edward's wristblade by her pile of clothes. It was freshly coated red.

"Run into some trouble?" Edward asked, strapping the weapon back onto his arm.

"_Almost_ trouble," Mary corrected. She perched herself on the table and slipped out of her boots so she could pull on her trousers. "So, I think I like Cortessa. The guards don't hunt her until she does something she shouldn't. I still hate the clothes, though."

Edward nodded with an amused smile while he fastened the buckled on one of his holsters. "Aye, she was very useful."

"I think I might keep her," Mary said, pondering, as she pulled her boots back on.

"How do you mean?" Edward asked, confused.

"Well, Mary Read is dead now, officially, and I find I enjoy using an alias from time to time. Cortessa seems as good an option as any," she explained with a small shrug.

Edward nodded understanding. "Aye, but might you want to pick something more… English? A name is easy to fake, but an whole nationality? Not so much so, I imagine."

Mary gave it a moment's thought. "Alight. Just Tessa, then."

Edward smiled approvingly, then threw a glance over his shoulder at what was once a fine Italian gown, now laying crumpled and torn in a heap in the dirt. "Damned shame that dress didn't survive the ordeal. I was rather fond of it." He laughed and leaned forward on his elbows, giving Mary a wry smile, his head tilted just a bit. He was painfully aware that this position put him at about eye level with her chest, and it was all he could do not to think back to the effectively seductive ploy she'd used on Rogers.

Mary laughed, frustrated. "You didn't have to wear it, mate." She radiated breathless irritation. "Bloody impractical, nearly impossible to fight or run in…"

Edward smirked. "I think you'll be in a much better mood once you get out of this thing," he muttered, reaching out – almost without thinking – with one blade and catching the taut string at the top of her corset where it tied it the middle. The tension combined with the sharp edge of his knife was too much for the weak lacing and it snapped with a tiny wrist movement from the man.

Mary held his gaze calmly, not moving away. "Aye, you're likely right about that." There was something in her eyes that he couldn't read... Did she want him to keep going? _He_ certainly did...

Edward suddenly stiffened and pulled back. What the hell was he doing? He was trying to mend things with his wife. He couldn't be thinking like this. Whores were one thing, but Mary wasn't the kind of woman you fucked once just to clear your head. She was the most important person in his world. Their friendship was everything to him. He didn't want this. He didn't want her. He just… He'd been at sea too long without reprieve.

Angry with himself, with his weakness, Edward turned on heel and stalked toward the street.

"Oi!" Mary called after him. "Where are you headed off to?"

"I need a night off," he growled, running his fingers through his hair, his movements aggravated. "Grab your kit and pack well. Get the crew in line. We'll be leaving the sunrise after next."

He turned the corner without allowing himself to look back at Mary, sitting on the table, confused and half-dressed. He needed to find rum, and he needed to find himself a woman. Fortunately for him, he was well familiar with every tavern in the West Indies, and Kingston's was like his second home. Not that he had much of a first home to begin with.

* * *

**AN:**

Read and review, please! I'm thinking of extending this story to 7 or 8 parts instead of just six, so if you think I can keep your interest that long, let me know!

Check out my tumblr blog, GreetTheDawn, for advance previews of chapters and other random commentary stuff from me!

-Dawn


	4. Author's Note: Sorry!

**AN:**

Hey, guys! A quick 'thank you' for being so wonderful. The response this story is getting is very encouraging, and it's been a while since I've loved something I'm writing so much. It's a nice feeling!

I thought you all deserved an explanation as to why I've been AWOL the last few weeks. Long story short, I had a grand mal seizure two weeks ago. Lame, I know. It's not epilepsy, we know that much. They think it might be a thing called Cardiovascular Syncope, but I still have to have an EKG done to get an actual diagnosis. It's been more than a bit of a bump in my schedule, particularly with school starting and all…

But I am indeed writing! I'm very nearly done with chapter 4, and it's shaping up to be the longest chapter I've ever written for _any _of my stories. Chapter 3 currently holds that title, but that was only sixteen pages long (I write all my chapters on paper as a rough draft first, so on FF.N it ended up being 5k+ words) and this one is going to be over twenty! The rough draft will be done sometime this evening and I'll post the final version here and on my tumblr (GreetTheDawn) either tonight or tomorrow evening.

That being said, school starts tomorrow for me. I only have a half-schedule so my afternoons will be free, but I don't know how much time I'll have to dedicate to fanfiction. I'll try to keep up, but I can't make any promises right here and now.

One last thing: I know this is thinking WAY ahead down the road, but I had an idea for a second Kiddway fic, when I finish this one, of course. It would basically be Black Flag from Mary's POV, starting with the Assassin attack on Havana in sequence 2 which, in my headcanon, she was a part of. Maybe the end of that one would join up with the beginning of this one. I don't know yet. Anyway, is that something you'd be interested in? PM me, review, or tumblr ask me to give me feedback on this idea.

Look for the chapter update tonight or tomorrow!

-Dawn


	5. Gold

**AN:**

I could list all the reasons why this is so late, but I think you guys are as tired of hearing my excuses as I am of giving them. :P Long, long story short, my life is just a little crazy busy right now. If you're following me on tumblr you may have caught wind of little snippets along those lines.

Basically I no longer have time to even try to post once a week, so I'm going to stop setting post dates and getting all y'all's hopes up. I promise to update whenever I can possibly manage it, but that may mean it'll be a while.

It'll help, though, if I stop writing 11k-word chapters. Like this one. That's how long this one is. Have fun!

-Dawn

* * *

**Song:** _Gold_ – Sir Sly

The crew roared. Raucous jeers were tossed from side to side. A bottle still half-full bottle of rum was smashed against the inside of the hull. The captain had claimed one of Kidd's chips.

Nine Men's Morris had evolved into something of an extreme sport aboard the _Jackdaw_. The lengthy weeks of sea between Jamaica and Africa could make a man appreciative of any form of entertainment, but the fierce competition between the ship's two highest-ranking commanders had driven the hype to new, occasionally dangerous heights. Brawls broke out nearly every night and if you didn't take a jarring blow to the head, the next morning's hangover would make you wish you had.

It was really Mary's game – coordinating individual pieces to eliminate an opponent – but Edward held his own fairly well. He'd only lost 10 of the 17 games they'd played that week, and he was fixing to win the one in front of them at that moment. The men had taken to forming cheering sections and placing high-stakes bets on their favorite to win. The players themselves used gold coins – and small jewels, when available – from the day's raids as game tokens, winner take all.

Some captains discouraged gambling on their ships because of the animosity it often bred between otherwise cooperative, amicable sailors, but no man was destitute for very long under the black banner held by Kenway and Kidd. If he lost all he had to his mate one night, the next day would see him lining his purse with twice as much as he'd had before. The African trade routes had proven very prosperous, due to the decreased competition on the east side of the Atlantic.

Because their games so boosted the morale of the crew, Edward and Mary had agreed together to continue them nightly until they had heard word of Roberts. Their escapade across the ocean had thus far turned up unfruitful, though they stopped at every port town along the African coast on their way south, asking after the _Royal Fortune_. They were set to reach Príncipe within the next few days, but as of yet there had been no real confirmation that he was even still there.

Mary narrowed her eyes as Edward removed from the table one of her coins, which had been lined up to form a mill in her next turn. However, this action sent her into the 'flying' stage, which made a dangerous opponent of a talented player like her.

With an ominous smirk crossing her face, she laughed and took a swig of rum and propped her elbows on the table. The crewmen were loaded to the gunwales, but she and the captain only drank enough to keep their game interesting. With an expert glint in her eye, she dropped one of her chips into a new place on the board that she'd carved into a mess-hall table with her knife some weeks earlier. This action effectively blocked Edward's only available route to reuse that mill.

He raised an eyebrow at her and she held his gaze evenly, prompting. The piece she had moved had been the only thing preventing him from making a long play that would wipe her out in a small few minutes. That was the reason she'd had it where she did. A quick scan of the board indicated no reason to worry she might be playing him, and another glance at her confirmed his suspicion. She was ever so subtly throwing the game.

Edward wasn't affronted by this. It was acknowledgement that he was going to have won the round, anyway. Mary was infamous for her artful and deadly ability to go down swinging, but she also knew when it was wisest to bow out and maintain dignity. Evidently, she wasn't looking for a fight to the death that night. He knew that, but she didn't have to let the men betting on her know that.

Taking the bottle of rum out of her hands, he gladly obliged and swept up the game in a few short moves. The majority of the crew had had their money on Kidd, though their displeased groans were well matched by the merry cheers of victory on Edward's side. Mary leaned back from the table, arms crossed, and nodded yieldingly to her captain.

"All right, lads. I'm had for the night," Kenway announced, sweeping his winnings into his pocket with a broad smile while his men patted him on the back proudly. Coins changed hands to the tune of dissatisfied grunts and pleased whoops and shouts all around the mess hall as debts were settled for the evening.

Mary pushed away from the table and he joined her in heading back to their shared cabin. Edward had insisted that she move into the captain's quarters when she'd joined up, to better keep her secret. No need for her to bunk with a bunch of drunken sailors when they could just as easily fit her cot into the more private room beneath the helm. She had argued that she was, herself, a 'drunken sailor' and well used to the company of other 'drunken sailors', but he had refused to concede, citing his crew's inherent lack of boundaries, which had only led to more arguing. Eventually, though, she had given in, and Edward had new keys made for the room; one for him, one for her, none for any other man on the ship. No explanation was given to the crew, who had been uneasy about the new situation at first – which Mary and Edward never addressed with each other, though he could tell she found it endlessly amusing. All wariness about it had long since been forgotten by the time that they'd reached Africa, however.

Edward locked the door behind them when they reached their quarters, as he usually did. "You know," he began, teasing. "If you're finding yourself bored with Nine Men's, we can always find another method of keeping the crew's minds occupied."

Mary cast a glance at him over her shoulder as she strode toward the desk, smirking in amusement. "The only thing I'm bored of, mate, is my lack of an opponent worth his salt."

Edward furrowed his brow, playfully defensive as he joined her at the navigation table. "I'll remind you that I beat you out twice tonight, fair and square. Perhaps you should not give in so easily. Might make it more entertaining for the both of us." With a cheeky smile, he poured them both a drink from the bottle already on the desk from the night before. Mary settled into a chair and put her feet up after being handed hers, while Edward leaned against a structural beam across from his friend.

She took a long swig of her rum and sat thinking for a moment before speaking. "All right, aye, I am growing tired. But of our journey, not the game. We've gone too long without news. We should know something more by now. I don't like sailing in blind like this." She narrowed her eyes, her gaze far off as she absently rubbed the rim of her tankard with her thumb.

"We'll be in Príncipe in a day's time. Two, at most. If he has left, someone there must know where he went. I'm sure they'll be more than agreeable when we come asking." His tone was plotting.

Mary laughed, still staring unheedingly at the floor. "Ah, the fearsome Captain Kenway, ever-ready cut loose information from a tight-lipped man."

He chuckled warmly. "While I do so despise being unable to live up to the legend of my name in _any _form, I've come to find that gold speaks far more readily than a blade. And why take a life when you can make a new friend in business?"

She looked to watch him sip his drink, her eyes wide, clearly pleased with an edge of disbelief. "Why, Edward Kenway. Is it possible that you've finally come to understand what it is to be wise?"

He frowned. "I wouldn't play at so grand of an accomplishment as that. Not by the standard you are accustomed to, at any rate. I sometimes still struggle to get a grasp on your Creed. For if nothing is true, then why believe anything? And if everything is permitted, then why not chase every desire?"

Mary smiled softly. "Why, indeed?"

"It might be that this idea is only the beginning of wisdom, and not its final form." He shook his head, reveling in the enormous possibility behind such a concept that he was only gradually understanding. "I imagine you comprehend much more in this mantra than I yet do. Your years with the Assassins have afforded you a wisdom that I still find difficult to understand." And he meant this. The shrewd judiciousness she displayed daily had baffled him since their first meeting. She had about her an intelligence and insight into the world that had always had a way of picking at his conscience, even when he least welcomed it. Such a level of sagaciousness had always been hard for him to believe of a boy not yet out of his teens. It counted among the list of things that hadn't made sense to him before the revelation that James was indeed a woman, but fell firmly into place afterward.

"It'll come with time, I trust. There's so much yet for you to see," she offered with an affectionate grin. "Just try not to cock anything up to massively for me in the meantime, yeah?"

"Oh, I'll do my very best," Edward drawled sarcastically in return. He knocked back the last of his rum and started toward his bed. His vest – a piece he was very proud of, as it was crafted from sharks that he himself had killed – was tossed aside and his shirt soon followed. The cool night air blowing off the sea and in through the open windows brushed across the bare skin of his torso, and the chill was welcome. It vaguely reminded him of the nippy weather of the little welsh town he'd been born in. He hadn't enjoyed that place too terribly, and it stood in such sharp contrast to the warm, lush, jungled seas he had grown to love back in the New World, but cooler temperatures invoked nostalgia for the simple joys and ease of childhood.

He settled onto his mattress with his head leaned back against the wall, facing the room, and pulled his boots off. Mary finished off her own drink as he tossed them unceremoniously to the floor. While he watched her shrug lazily out of her olive-colored coat and wrestle to get her chest bindings out from under her blouse, he marveled for the hundredth time at her ability to keep up such a detailed ruse for more than twenty years. She truly was the most remarkable person he'd known in all his life, even if she was measured only by that single accomplishment.

She turned to look at him, her mouth opened to speak, but she caught him watching her. "If you'd really like to watch a woman undress, I could leave you at the next port town and pick you up at the brothel after I kill Roberts," she suggested teasingly, twisting her wrist to remind him that she was, as always, armed.

He averted his gaze, marginally startled at having been caught staring. "No! No, it's not that." _This time._ "It just surprises me occasionally... We've been mates for nearly a decade and sailed together for the better part of a year, yet you still give me pause at times... Still make me want to better myself." Losing her, or at least thinking he had, had made one thing vividly clear to him: he would fight any fight, live any life, believe any Creed that could give him the slightest hope of being worthy to stand by this woman's side and be called her friend. This was never plainer in his mind than in those quiet moments of the night where no one and no place needed exist other than him and her and the small cabin they called their own.

Mary sat on the edge of her cot and looked away out the windows at stern of their brig with a small smile. "Your new-found wisdom is making you soft, mate."

Edward laughed and realized quietly in the privacy of his own mind that he really didn't have a good response to that observation. Stretching out on his mattress, he put out the lamp at his bedside while Mary finished preparing for the night by the light of her own. The silence between them was easy.

* * *

He laid awake for about an hour after they were both settled. His mind was busy and sleep evaded him. From the aggravated sounds of movement coming from Mary's side of the dark cabin, he could tell that she was no better off. It had been the same for the previous few nights. The closer they came to Roberts, the less rest either of them were able to get. He had hoped that the rum they'd had before bed would help, but, while it addled their brains, it did little to stunt their anxious and impatient thoughts.

After a particularly noisy pillow punch from Mary, Edward couldn't help the dark laugh that escaped his lips. "I think I'd gut Roberts for no reason other than getting a good night's rest, by this point," he mumbled.

She grunted in vague agreement. "The sooner we cut him down, the sooner you can get some sleep. And the sooner I can go after Torres for my daughter."

Mildly startled, Edward propped himself up on his elbows. Some of the weary and buzzed fog in his mind parted, waking him up a bit. Anymore, she wouldn't talk about her child unless there was rum in her hand and more in her belly. She must have had a few more drinks that night than he'd thought. "Is that why you're so restless? You're eager to be back home?"

She rolled onto her side to face him, their eyes finding each other in what little moonlight filtered through the grime edging the windows. "And you're not?"

"Of course I am. But for different reasons, it would seem." That didn't mean he didn't want to find her daughter. He would cut down the whole of the British Navy to find that child for his friend. Although, the dark, selfish part of his mind that he'd originally grown to associate with his thirst for esteem and wealth balked against the idea of the baby girl's existence. He refused to acknowledge it while he had full control of his thoughts, but he knew deep down that he was loath to look upon her. There would be much of Mary in her, to be sure; her hair, perhaps, or the sharp warmth of her fawn-colored eyes, maybe the line of her nose. But there would be parts of her father, as well, and Edward found that deeply unsettling. In the frighteningly still moments of the night where he was entirely alone with himself, he begrudgingly had to admit that on some level he was trying to convince himself that that man, and subsequently that child, had never been a part of Mary's life.

And in those moments, he found himself hoping that she thought the same about his wife.

He was silent for a moment before his lips moved to ask a question that had been burning in his mind since the day of her trial nearly two years before, when he'd found out about her pregnancy. A question he likely never would have asked while sober, no matter the length of time that had passed. "Did you love him? The man who fathered your child, did you love him?"

Mary gave a surprised laugh, obviously startled by his sudden curiosity. He'd never been one to pry into her personal affairs. "That depends. Did you love those twins you took to bed the other night?"

Edward flashed her a wry grin through the darkness, though he understood what she was getting at. And odd sensation of relief washed through his system like a hearty swig of rum to numb a wound. "Oh, believe you me, my love for those girls was strong. Passionate..." He sighed wistfully, somewhat for effect.

She snorted. "Aye, and you 'loved' them all over my cot. I'm still pissed at you for that, by the way." Her upper lip pulled up in a disgusted sneer and she reached above her head for a tankard sitting on a shelf, lobbing it at his head.

He ducked with a devilish snicker and the mug hit the wall behind him, crashing noisily to the floorboards. "Call it the heat of the moment." He caught another glare, sharpened by the moonlight reflected in her eyes, and he sighed in submission, though his broad grin didn't lessen. "I'll make it up to you, I promise." He raised his hands in a gesture to say 'please don't throw a knife next'.

Mary grunted, the sound half-amused, and rolled back over to face the wall. "I'll be holding you to that, Kenway. But it can wait 'til tomorrow. I ain't staying up all night so you can clear your conscience."

Edward cast an affectionate smirk at her back, appreciating the gentle way her narrow shoulders rose and fell with each breath. "'Goodnight, Mary."

"Mhmm…"

* * *

Edward listed his hand to his eyes with a groan. The bright African sun strained to reach his eyes through the narrow gaps between his fingers. The dull throbbing within his skull protested against the light, and the tossing of the ship did little to ease the situation. The warmth on his bare chest was welcome, though. He wrapped his hands more firmly around the handles of the wheel to steady himself.

The captain was far better off than most of his crew. Some of the men were nursing their hangovers with more rum. Others vomited unabashedly over the edge of the deck.

A door was opened below the helm where Edward stood and was then slammed shut a moment later. Mary appeared in his field of view over the wheel looking groggy and exhausted. She stopped the kitchen boy who was running around the deck handing out biscuits to the sailors on duty and then joined him at the helm.

"Ahoy, Kidd!" he greeted her as she climbed the steps, making a point to shout. He accented the words with a smirk.

"Up your arse, Kenway," she grumbled around a mouthful of her breakfast, cheery like the sunrise as usual. Sinking to the ground at his right and leaning her head against the railing with her eyes closed, she mumbled, "That'll be the last I'm drinking until Roberts' blood has dried in his veins."

"Aye," Edward muttered in agreement. "We need to stay on point. He might hear of us asking after his galleon and seek to strike first. It won't do to be passed out in the hold should that happen."

Mary nodded. "I know from experience that that wouldn't end favorably for the _Jack_."

He looked to the ground, suddenly regretting mentioning it. The image of Anne bleeding out from the bullet hole in her stomach – full and round with the budding life of her child who, too, was fading from the world – was brought back to the front of his mind with a fresh and demanding clarity. Rackham had failed both her and Mary, as well as their babes, that night that they were all arrested. Edward had sworn to himself the day he'd taken his friend on as his quartermaster that he would forsake her the same way. "Of course you do. Forgive me for bringing it up." And, though he didn't say it, he really was seeking her forgiveness. For not being there. When everyone else had failed her, he had gone and done so, too.

Mary didn't respond, only studying the lattice patterning of the scars on her hands.

Pushing those depressing thoughts from his mind, he pulled a telescope out of his coat and turned it over in his hands. "How's your head?"

"Pounding," she complained. "But I'm well enough to scout, if that's what you're really asking." Downing the last of her biscuit, she pulled herself to her feet.

He handed over the instrument. "Call out if you see something."

"Aye, you don't have to tell me." She tucked the scope into her pocket and left him standing at the helm. Hauling herself up the underside of the ratlines to get a better vantage point higher on the mast, she soon disappeared from sight into the crow's nest.

They sailed that way for some time, until high noon had passed and the sun was closer to the horizon than it wasn't. Mary came down from the upper reaches of the mast when she got hungry and Edward joined her in the mess hall. Their reprieve was short-lived, for business' sake, and soon they were back at their posts. They swapped places for a time, but being limited in her range of sight made Mary impatient while she was so close to her target, so they traded back after only an hour.

It was very early evening when her call came.

"Edward!" Mary shouted. "You'll want to see this!"

That got his attention. She never called him by his given name aboard the _Jackdaw_, not unless they were alone. In the presence of the crew, it was always 'Kenway' or 'Captain', though rarely the latter.

He looked up the mast to see her leaping forward off her platform and catching a hook to control her descent. She hit the deck hard, but barely took a breath to catch herself before running to join Edward at the helm. Without another word, she passed him the telescope.

The sight that lay through its lens could not have been more welcome. "Príncipe," he breathed, turning to Mary with an eager smile.

She shook her head. "Aye, but look to the west."

Confused, he raised the spyglass to his eye once more. She guided the end more to their right with a finger.

Smoke rose slowly from the battered ruins of a sinking frigate on the horizon.

Understanding, and with a hopeful leap in his chest, he passed the scope back to Mary and pulled his brig hard to southwest. "Full sail!" he called out to the crewmen. "Full sail! She'll take it!"

The men jumped right to it and canvas dropped into the wind, billowing up in seconds. Sooner than he could have hoped, they were on top of the wreck.

"This is a mess…" Mary muttered, her eyes scanning the debris. Scattered throughout the burning planks and barrels were masses of men floating face-down in the water.

"Aye," Edward agreed. "That's just Roberts' style."

The set of her mouth was grim as she made her way down to the main deck and began shouting orders. "Scan the wreck, men! Find survivors and pull them out of the drink. The captain and I will want a word with 'em. I trust I don't have to remind you that, if you see loot, you take it!"

Edward rested his elbows on the railing at the edge of his ship's hull and stared out broodingly over the water. This was one of Roberts' marks, he thought. It had to be, brutal slaughter as it was. The bodies littering the calm waves were innumerable. None but the fiercest and most self-serving of pirates would commit such an unprovoked act of destruction. Even common rogues had _some_ semblance of respect for the sanctity of life. Or perhaps that was simply his new alignment with the Assassin Order speaking for him…

"Kenway! Here's one still kicking!" Mary's beckoning pulled him from his thoughts. When he looked over, she was helping some of the men pull a ragged and sputtering sailor on board.

"Who did this?" Edward asked, kneeling beside the wounded Englishman.

"It were a large vessel," the sailor rasped, coughing up a small bit of salt water that dribbled from his slit and bleeding lips. "The _Royal Fortune_."

"Roberts," Mary muttered, her eyes catching Edward's. Her expression was wisely one of apprehension.

"Offered no quarter," the refugee continued. "Didn't say nothing."

His jaw clenched, Edward beckoned to one of his crew members. "Massey, take this man to the sick bay to get this cut on his arm patched up. And see to it that he's fed." He straightened and looked the wounded sailor over. "You're with us now, whether you like it or not, though you're welcome to jump back in the waves and wait for Davy Jones to fetch you, if you'd prefer. Should you choose life, you'll be free to find a job on another ship when we dock at the next port, or stay on with the free men of the _Jackdaw_ and live as a gentleman of fortune among our ranks. The decision is yours, but you may only make it once."

The man nodded gratefully. "Thank you, sir."

Edward turned, stopping Abbott, one of his ranking officers, as he passed by. He made quick instructions for him to take the helm and steer them toward Príncipe, then made his way back to his quarters without speaking to another man.

* * *

Standing before his open wardrobe, Edward ran his fingers over the many layers and sets of various cloths and fabrics before they rested upon those that he sought: blue and white, traditional, but modified to emit the aura of his own personal style. He pulled it out from the rest and slipped it on before moving in front of the mirror to fasten the belts and other ornaments.

The hinges on the door creaked, followed by a familiar set of footsteps. He glanced over at Mary to see her leaning against the navigation desk with her arms crossed.

"Suiting up for battle, are you?" she asked, nodding at his attire. "It's been a good week or two since last you wore those."

Edward frowned as he fastened his holsters across his chest. "I was wearing these same robes when Roberts and I first met in Havana. I was posing as Duncan Walpole then, of course. A Templar. And I knew him only as the man who could guide me to my greatest score, set me for life." He touched the Assassin insignia carved into his hidden blades and looked over his reflection. "But this uniform is no longer just a costume. It has become a part of who I am now. I'm an Assassin. And he is my next target. I think it's only fitting that he see that in his final hour."

Mary, with a hand in her hair, strode forward to stand behind him. Her lithe, calloused fingers moved to the nape of his neck and Edward felt her fiddling with the string there before sliding something onto either end of the shell and bone necklace that he always wore. When she let it fall back into place, he saw that she had added a pair of black beads, the same ones that were wound into the locks that strayed from her red hair wrap. His eyes met hers in the mirror.

"Remember that you don't fight alone anymore." Her tone was level, soft, and she slowly moved her hand around his body to gently grip his shoulder. "Every one of your brothers and sisters will gladly fight by your side to the last breath. It's one of the many virtues of our Order."

Edward covered her hand with his own. "Is that what you are, then? My sister?"

She smiled a small bit. "There are some ties that are stronger even than those between family." Slipping away from him, Mary turned and headed back toward the door. "We're close to the docks now. Let's get to shore so we can kill this bastard and go home."

Edward smirked knowingly, turning to watch her leave. "Your words sing the hymns of bitterness, Mary. Does the African air not agree with you? Or is it, perhaps, something more to do with your last meeting with our friend on old Prins' plantation?"

Mary sighed to the floorboards with a small, resigned smile. Guilty as charged. He knew she was still sour about Roberts getting one over on her in Kingston. "This is about more than simple pride, Edward. To be a demon on the sea is one thing, but 'our friend' the Sage takes after the heart of the devil himself. He's far too powerful with all the knowledge that he holds in his head to be so wild and erratic as he is. We'll all be safer with him gone." With a nod, she exited, and Kenway followed after another glance in the mirror.

* * *

Edward pushed his head above the water's surface, trying to gasp for air as quietly as possible. He'd been under for so long, trying to remain undetected, that the edges of his vision had started to cloud over with red.

Mary pedaled steadily against the gentle waves and reached out to grip the hull of the ship beside him. The shadow of the Spanish frigate in the harbor provided welcome cover for the pair.

"I don't like the look of this, Edward," she muttered, combing her wet locks out of her eyes with her free hand. "His galleon's not in the port."

"He _is_ here," he insisted. "I can sense it, somehow."

"I don't doubt that he is, but he's on the run from two of the most powerful nations in the world. He's brighter than to let the Spanish or British corner him. He'll have an escape planned."

Edward frowned. That was a fair point, and one he hadn't yet accounted for. "Aye, I'll wager you're right. Of course you are." He glanced around, checking to make sure the coast was clear. "We'll just have to take him by surprise, then." Pulling on his hood, he dove back beneath the low waves and continued to shore, careful not to kick Mary in the face as he knew she would be right on his tail.

He and Mary crawled along the edge of the beach, ducking behind several solitary rocks and boulders before coming to rest in a large patch of short bushes beside a building at the edge of the fort town.

Once they had a moment to catch their breaths and survey their surroundings, it became apparent that surprise may not have been a viable option. Just a bit back from the docks lay a massive encampment of Roberts' men. Patrols were stationed on all paths, and an extra horde of them guarded the path uphill to the actual fort. It was clear to Edward that they, or some other of the pirate lord's enemies, were expected.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mary lift her gun and take aim.

Realizing what she was about to do, he gripped the barrel of the pistol and ripped it from her hand. "I said to stay low!" he hissed. "What sort of trick are you trying to pull off?"

She narrowed her eyes, clearly irritated. He knew how she despised him telling her off. It wasn't an unfounded peeve, however, as he was usually the one in the wrong. As he was this time. "Keep your trousers tied! We're not getting up there unnoticed," she bit back. "Might as well spook Roberts a bit while we're at it. If you want to go to pains of sneaking about, you're welcome to it, but I'm doing it my way. Feel free to join in if it suits you." Turning away, she lifted her other gun.

Growling under his breath, he put his hand on her arm, forcing her to lower her weapon. "Fine. Let me do it, though. I'm the better shot." This was true. They didn't have to debate it.

Mary scoffed, but there was an edge of humor to it that let him breathe easy. He wouldn't have to sleep with an eye open that night. after all "Not when you're pissed, you're not."

That made him smile. She was right. Give him a few drinks he couldn't shoot his own nose off if he tried. "Good job I'm sober then, eh?" Edward handed back her pistol before drawing one of his own and firing at a formidable stack of powder barrels. A pair of guards standing by were knocked to the ground by the blast. They didn't get back up.

Guards poured out of the woodwork, drawn by the commotion. When they saw the bodies, a few men who looked like they were in charge began shouting out orders to search for the intruder. Roberts' crew fanned out to scan the bushes.

Engaging their blades, the two Assassins pushed outward from their hiding place in opposite directions, diving into patches of foliage and pulling their enemies in with them. A few were cut down in the street while everyone else had their backs turned and quickly pulled behind crates and buildings where the patrols wouldn't stumble across them.

With the first group out of the way, Mary led them up the hill at a crouched sprint. Taking aim herself this time, she set off another set of barrels as they ran, effectively dispatching the glut of buccaneers blocking their path. Edward cleaned up the strays and then they slipped behind the walls of the fort, ducking into another bush.

It was clear that they had gotten Roberts' attention. "Why, who chases me, eh?" The Sage's voice rang out over the encampment from higher still above them, "Is it a specter come to spook me? Or the gaunt remains of a man I sent to hell?"

"Oh, it was hell, to be sure," Edward muttered. His blood began to boil in his veins. Suddenly filled with an impatient need to feel Roberts' weight settling onto his blade, he drew his swords and stepped out into the open. A pair of brutish-looking guards with axes spotted him right off and called to a nearby patrol. Weapons were pulled, but the young captain just rolled his shoulders menacingly and stared them all down, inviting a fight.

"Edward!" Mary hissed from behind him, chastising. He smiled warmly at the exasperation in her voice as his opponents took their first steps toward him. A gunshot sounded some few feet back and another explosion cleared out the advancing patrol. The brutes, seemingly undaunted, drew closer. Kenway felt his companion come to stand at his left shoulder.

They each took a guard and readied to attack or defend. Mary's made the first move, swinging his axe down at her skull like a great meat cleaver. She rolled away seamlessly around the side, forcing the two hulking men back-to-back. This move made it more difficult to attack one without the other stepping in to defend, but it limited their range of motion, among other things. Edward knew this move of hers well, and so pressed his own foe backward, tightening the circle. He met the brute blow-for-blow and waited for Mary to make her move.

Her move came when after her opponent made a particularly heavy and aggressive swing with his axe. When the weapon came down, she caught it deftly with the flat of her blade and used the momentum against the man to send him sprawling on all fours. With his line of defense broken, it was all too easy for Mary to step forward and slip her hidden blade between the ribs of Edward's adversary and then turn to dispatch her own with a bullet to the skull.

Kenway felt a surge of pride for his friend as he watched her holster her pistol, appreciating how clever she was to utilize her foe's false sense of security in their ally against them. It made him endlessly glad that they were on the same side. She scared him enough when she only _thought_ about killing him. He couldn't imagine how quickly he'd kick off if she actually decided to carry through, but then he looked at the brutes – slain at her feet, their blood pooling around the soles of her shoes – and realized he didn't have to.

In the next moment, though, Mary shoved her engaged wristblade under his nose, and all affectionate thoughts fled his mind. "Stop making messes. I get tired of mopping up." Her eyes narrowed.

He sheathed his swords and sighed. "I'd apologize if I believed it wouldn't happen again."

After pulling ammo and coins off the guards, they climbed some scaffolding to find a grouping of tents propped up around a fire. Two more men stood by the flame, talking casually of inconsequential things. They were dispatched of without a fight.

Edward stooped over the body of the sailor he'd cut down, about to drag it off into the tents where it wouldn't be seen, but then a familiar voice reached his ears. He lifted his head to glance around for the source and his eyes fell on his target, the bastard bilge-rat Roberts himself. Through the section of the wall that the path passed through, Kenway could see him ordering two of his crewmembers around, instructing them to guard the way to the cliff.

_The cliff!_ Edward smirked. They had him cornered. He glanced over to Mary, who was busy managing her own victim's corpse. Her back was turned. Eager, he hooked an arm around her waist and covered her mouth with his hand, pulling her into the nearest tent and out of Roberts' line of sight. Her initial reaction was to tense up and fight. She managed to throw her arms behind her and grab the hair at the nape of his neck by the roots before she realized it was only him, not an enemy.

Relaxing, she twisted around and pulled his palm off her lips, raising her eyebrows expectantly in a mute question. He responded by motioning for her to look outside to the north. Obliging, she rolled out of his arms and flattened herself to the ground, crawling forward to peek under the bottom of the tent canvas. When she turned back around, her eyes were wide with understanding.

Edward shifted toward one of the open ends of the tent. "I'll take left," he mouthed. Mary nodded and pulled herself into a crouch before ducking out the other end.

He slipped from inside the one tent to hide behind the one next to it. A quick glance told him that Roberts' men were still in position. Using bushes and crates as cover, he swung around to the left side of the wall and pressed his body against the wooden poles that formed it. He glanced over to see that Mary was already in place.

On her signal, the pair of them twisted around the corner and knifed the guards. They stood alongside each other, shoulder to shoulder, as their marks crumpled to the ground.

Roberts faced them some thirty paces away. He stood still for a moment. Then he flashed him the smile of a man spawned straight from the devil's own loins before turning on his heel and pitching himself over the edge of the cliff.

"Roberts!" Edward cried, rage swelling up inside his chest. He and Mary dashed forward, and he dearly hoped to see his betrayer's body broken on a colorful array of sea-honed rocks a few hundred feet below.

As they ran, a great mast became visible over the crest of the hill. The _Royal Fortune_. The Sage was escaping on his galleon.

"No! Damn it!" Edward shouted at the stern of the ship. "I'll send you to down to the pit to get fucked up the arse by hellhounds if it's that last thing I do in this life, you welcher! You hear me?"

Mary jabbed him hard in the ribs with her elbow. "Quit your howling, man. We've got to go!" She ran forward, off onto the trunk of a dying tree that leaned out over the water.

He then realized what she was talking about. Their own brig was pulling up under them in pursuit of the enemy Man 'o War. The crew must have grown wise to its scheme and sought the ship out on their own.

He let out an elated, relieved laugh. "Oh, good on you, _Jack_!" he called out. His men spotted him and Mary on the cliff then and cheered, angling closer to the rocks so that they could more easily reach the ship.

Edward jumped forward after Mary, climbing out over the abyss. The pair of them dove together, slicing through the warm waters. The impact stung on his skin like being slapped with the flat of a blade.

They pulled themselves on deck as soon as the _Jackdaw_'s shadow drew long over their heads. The crew got straight to work.

"Come on now! Captain's aboard!" Mary began shouting at the men the moment her feet left the water and continued as they sprinted to the helm to claim the wheel from Bell, an able young helmsmen. "Man all canvas! Let's move!"

The _Royal Fortune _grew visibly nervous once Edward stood at command of his vessel. With a loud booming, it fired at the cliffs it was passing between. Huge masses of stone fell into the water, effectively cutting off the _Jackdaw's _pursuit.

Mary swore and shoved Edward out of the way, turning the bough of the ship hard to the right. She didn't bother shouting at him to find another path, simply doing it herself instead. Instead of being angered by this disregard for his authority the way most captains would have been, Edward was grateful that she took the initiative instead of waiting around for his approval and action, thus losing valuable time. Besides, it wasn't exactly the first time she'd done it.

Leaving her to keep them from grazing the surrounding sandbars, he went down to the gun deck where the crew were readying the cannons. "Give 'em a taste of the chasers, boys! Soon as you see your target, blow them to hell!" he called into down the stairs into the hull to the sailors manning the front guns.

They came around the bend without incident, but as soon as they drew within range of the hostile ship, they heard the rolling thunder of mortars.

"Steer clear of that, Kidd!" Edward shouted back up to the helm, though Mary was already angling away. "Brace!" he ordered the crew, gripping the ratlines to steady himself as the cannonballs came showering down around them. A few of them hit, but did little more than nick the woodwork. Most landed in the water, sending sea spray flying into the faces of the _Jackdaw's_ crew. Straightening himself, Kenway stalked toward the bough. "Rain our mortar fire on that old fussock! See how she likes it!"

Every one of their own mortar shot struck the the _Royal Fortune_ spot on. Edward said a silent prayer of thanks for the lack of maneuverability that Men 'o War displayed. They were powerful, but they were slow, much like the brutes that he and Mary had fought earlier. And, like, those brutes, they were easily defeated with a little bit of strategy.

"Edward!" Mary called from her place at the helm. Her voice was as irritated as it was cautionary. "There's crosstrees on the horizon!"

"Flying British colors!" Massey announced from the crow's nest.

The captain turned to look. The tops of several sets of masts loomed in the fog of the night as the _Royal Fortune_ passed into open water. The flags of the Spanish navy were present as well. The Assassins weren't the only one's hunting the Sage that day. He swore under his breath. They couldn't afford to lose that crystal skull to another ship. The nations of the world couldn't afford it.

He ran up to the helm and gripped Mary's shoulder with urgency. "There's Spanish ships there, too, Kidd. This'll be a mess if we don't hurry."

She frowned and passed him the wheel, well aware that he preferred to pilot his own ship when they got down to the wire this way. "Hit her with the mortars again, lads, and chase it down with chain shot!" she howled.

As their own cannon fire pelted Roberts' ship, the British launched their own attack. A man 'o war pulled up alongside the _Royal Fortune_ from the east and bombarded its hull with two rounds from its 40-and-some broadsides before dropping back to avoid tangling with the Spanish, who had shifted in from the west. Two of King Phillip's frigates took advantage of the opening and surged forward, maneuvering until Roberts was trapped between them before unloading their guns on him from both sides.

Edward hissed through his teeth. "This is getting out of hand fast." He glanced at Mary who was gripping the railing to steady herself against the rising waves as they sailed into a storm. Her eyes were narrowed and her lips were set in a small frown in the way that told him she was strategizing. "I'm open to suggestions if you have any." The loud pop of a swivel cannon sounded to his left as his men fired at weak points in their enemy's hull. "Aye, take 'em down, lads!" he shouted encouragingly to the crew.

Mary tilted her head. "I might have one. We've got to close to do this, else another ship'll take our prize before we can get to it." They cut through the waves past a Spanish vessel in flames. Sailors floated in the water, some screaming, some deathly silent. The _Jackdaw_'s boys threw out ropes to pull in who they could.

"So what are you thinking?" Edward asked. "Ram him? Or empty the heavy shot on his head?"

"Both," she said. "Hit him at an angle and give him the broadsides and we slide past. If we time it right, we could catch them with the grappling hooks and board before they can fire back."

"Sounds like a plan by my ears," he nodded. "Call it out."

Mary shouted out orders and the sails were let out entirely to catch the wild winds of the storm. It was a risky move, but the added speed would make for a devastating blow when they collided with the _Royal Fortune_. The wind pulled at Edward's hair like the fingers of a lover as they dashed over waves toward their target, and Edward caught his quartermaster smiling as easily as if she were a child sprinting through a meadow. He knew how she did love this, the thrill of power and danger that came with battles and the sea. She was never more in her element than when she was facing the lethal end of a blade or gun, ready to outsmart her opponent. He felt himself smiling in response.

As they drew closer to Roberts, dodging Spanish and British attacks alike, Mary gripped his shoulder lightly. He turned to see another plotting expression on her face.

"You still owe me for those blondes the other night, yeah?" she asked.

He laughed. "Were they blonde? I can't recall."

She narrowed her eyes, but smirked. "Either way, I'm ready to collect."

Edward grinned. "What would you have me do?"

"Engage Roberts, keep him busy. But _don't_ kill him. Not until I give you the word."

"And if I do this, we'll call it even?"

"Aye, just-"

"Captain!" Mary was interrupted by a call from up the mainmast. Massey. "They're preparing to fire, sir!"

Ahead of them, Roberts' vessel had noticed their pursuit and was turning to line itself up perpendicularly to the _Jackdaw_. It was abandoning its escape attempt and was going to fight them instead, starting with the broadsides.

"Hold true, lads!" Mary ordered. "We're running them down."

Cannons boomed and round shot arced through the air at their prow.

"Brace!" Edward cried, pulling Mary down by the waist and ducking behind the wheel.

Metal pelted the deck. The smallest of their sails ripped near the base. One of their crewmen was knocked into the sea with a surprised scream, which Edward would have found almost darkly comical if Mary hadn't cried out in pain.

"Kidd!" he gasped as she twisted out of his arms and onto her back. Her face was pinched with pain.

"I'm all right," she spat, grasping at the jagged bit of shrapnel lodged in the fabric of her clothing. Blood pooled lightly where she pulled it out, staining the bit of her blouse that Edward could see through the tear in her coat. "It's only a flesh wound. I'm fine to fight."

Edward almost argued, but in the next moment, the _Jackdaw_'s ram connected with the hull of the _Royal Fortune_. Mary rolled to her knees and grabbed the wheel, pulling the brig hard to the right. "Fire at will!" she belted, straining to be heard over the clamor. "Give 'em everything we've got!"

He shrugged off his worry as the air filled with the thunder of cannons. About half a minute and three volleys later, a deafening crack sounded over the water as one of Roberts' masts snapped at the base and tumbled into the drink. The cheers from the deck of the _Jack_ were equally as deafening. Edward and Mary gripped each other's arms, their free fists thrown in the air with a war cry. They were coming to Roberts and damn it if they weren't going to let him know.

Abbott ran up to the space between the stairs that lead to the helm. "Shall we sink his ship, Captain?" he asked, almost giddy with the thrill of victory and eager to continue. "We've a better than even chance."

"No!" Edward called down to him, shaking his head. "There's a device with him that needs taking! We'll have to board her oursel-" He glanced to his side to check with Mary, but she wasn't at her post. She wasn't anywhere on deck. "Fucking hell, Kidd," he hissed under his breath. She had better know what she was trying would work. Particularly with her arm wounded as it was. There would be words exchanged when this was over, rather violent ones. It made him nervous and unsettled when she acted on her own that way, which she was well aware of. "Just reel her in, Abbott!" he grunted, but the crew was already on it, tossing grappling hooks over the man 'o war's rails and into its gun ports to pull the two ships together.

"Man the guns!" he heard Roberts shout from the stern of his galleon. "There's more fodder for you coming!"

Edward's upper lip lifted in an angry sneer. He sounded awfully cocky for a man with numbered breaths. Ignoring the swivel guns for fear of accidentally hitting Mary, wherever she was, Edward pulled his hood on and sprinted toward the edge of his brig. He flung himself over the side and caught onto the _Royal Fortune_'s hull. Quickly, he crawled along the gun ports until he could pull himself up onto the helm.

The Sage was hacking away at one of the younger boys on Kenway's crew. Enraged further by the sight, Edward pulled out a pistol and fired, intentionally piercing a hole through Robert's grandiose cap. It was exceedingly difficult for him to remember Mary's instructions to leave him alive for the time being.

Roberts pushed the boy to the ground and kicked him in the stomach before turning to face the Assassin, posing with one foot forward and his arms out to the side, almost inviting a bullet to the heart. "By Jove, Edward Kenway! How can I not be impressed by the attention you've paid me?" He changed his posture to a fighting stance, beckoning with his sword. "May the best of we two sing praises of the second."

Shouting wordlessly with rage, Edward lunged forward, throwing with blade out in a wide arc.

Just as their steel clashed, however, Roberts dropped his sword and gaped, his eyes and mouth wide. Blood trickled down his neck from where a metal hook had run him through. Surprised, Kenway stepped back and the Sage disappeared, pulled up into the air. In his place, a figure dropped to the ground and slammed the other end of the rope into the floorboards.

"You'd think I'm not even here, the way he goes on," Mary remarked, looking up at the Sage as he writhed in the air, grasping at his throat in pain and confusion. She rolled her arm with a wince. Pulling up Roberts must have put pain to her injury, he later observed.

Instinctively, Edward swung his sword down on the newcomer, but she stood and caught the blow on her wristblade, twisting its momentum in a smooth arc to point at the ground. She caught his gaze with a level stare, used to his reflexive attacks by that point. "Cut him down before he can't talk." She ordered, stepping away.

Mind reeling, he swung at the rope suspending his dying target and Roberts' body crumpled to the ground. Around them, the men of the _Jackdaw_ were forcing the enemy crew to their knees. The fight was won.

Mary kneeled at the Sage's side as he gasped for air around the blood that was welling in his throat and trickling from his lips. "I think you owe us some answers, mate," she muttered.

There was a delay in Roberts' response before recognition spread across his face. Despite his wounds, he smiled. "Ah, the woman Assassin from Kingston. Brought her along for the ride, did you Kenway?" His eyes scanned Mary's disguise. "Funny thing. I remembered you prettier."

She narrowed her eyes, though her lips tugged into a sad smile at the corners. "You're awfully cavalier for a dying man."

He chuckled and rolled uncomfortably at the pain the action produced in his throat. "Aye. A merry life and a short one, as promised. How well I know myself…" He turned away from Mary to look at her captain. "And what of you, Edward? Have you found the peace that you seek?"

Edward smiled softly and cast his gaze down. Peace had never been what he was after, not a day in his life. Not even the great Captain Kenway was quite that ambitious. No, he'd always sought after gold, power, influence. Or he had at one point. When he looked at Mary, though, and remembered the vast, dark nothingness that had come with the idea of death… All he really wanted anymore was to never feel that again.

But then she looked at him, and it occurred to him that, no, that wasn't entirely true.

"I'm not aiming so high as that," he responded after a beat. "For what is peace but a confusion between two wars?" Tranquility was complicated and impermanent. The pursuit of it was an errand for fools.

Roberts laughed again, more heartily this time. The pain he felt was evident in his tone, which was growing raspier. "Ah, you're a stoic then! Perhaps I was wrong about you. _She_ might have had some use for you after all..." His words were cloaked in wistfulness.

Mary furrowed her brow, clearly confused. "She? Who are you talking about?"

Edward was equally perplexed. She had told him every tale that she knew existed of the Sages and the Observatory, and there had not been one mention of the being Roberts spoke of.

Roberts sighed. Edward detected regret in his expression. "Oh… She who lies in wait. I had hoped to find her, to see her again. To open the door of the temple and hear her speak my name once more. Aita…"

Temple? Who was Aita? "Talk sense, man," Kenway hissed, crouching to hear his target's words, now little more than a whisper.

Roberts' eyes drifted. He appeared so tired, so worn, like he had seen too many ages come and go, lived too many lives and died too many deaths. "I was born too soon, like so many others before."

Edward was running out of patience, and he could sense that his target was running out of breaths. There wasn't time for chatter. "Where's the device, Roberts?

Grunting in agony, the man pulled the skull out of his coat. Blood spurted from his neck at the movement, coating the crystalline object with a morbid paint. Kenway reached over to take it from him, but Roberts grabbed his wrist and pulled him in. His expression had become suddenly desperate as the light of life began to flicker out behind his mismatched eyes. "Destroy this body, Edward," he urged. His last breaths came strangled and labored. "The Templars… If they take me…" Though his meaning was clear, he was unable to complete his warning. With a pained sigh, the only known Sage passed from the world.

Edward glanced over at Mary, catching her eye. Her expression was somber, but at peace. She stood and crossed her arms. "He was right. We've got to go."

The thunder of battling ships pulled Captain Kenway out of his own mind and back into the present. A set of British and Spanish warships were duking it out some several hundred meters away, but their fleets were far too close for his comfort. It was only a matter of time before they turned their attention on the only pirate vessel left floating. "Aye, let's move. We can give Roberts a proper send-off when we're safe away from that armada. Rally the men." With a grunt, he slung the corpse over his shoulder, blood still leaking from the neck wound and staining Edward's shirt. The feeling was warm and sticky and uncomfortable.

Mary nodded and made her way down to the gun deck, shouting at the men as she went. "All right, lads! Gather your affects and get back to the brig! Take what loot you can find, but don't go looking for it. We're on the sour side of time."

* * *

Edward stood chest deep in the warm waves with a flask in either hand, gazing out at the horizon, still dim as a new day dawned. The sunrise was one of the sharpest reminders that he was in unfamiliar waters. He was accustomed to the light coming up over the water to the east, but from where he stood off the western shore of Africa, the color of morning shone from over the tops of the trees, from land. The color of the ocean, still gray in the dim illumination, made him almost physically uncomfortable. It was the closest thing to a yearning for home that he had experienced in many years. He lifted the flask in his left hand to his lips to alleviate his sadness.

Sand crunched between his toes as he waded back to shore, droplets of water dripping from his trousers and bare chest as he neared Mary. She had likewise undressed, though she had left her blouse on. They both wore their blades and weapon belts, just as a precaution. Her hair hung loosely around her face while she leaned over the dingy that had brought them to shore with Roberts' lifeless body. The red wrap that usually tied up her black locks was wrapped securely around her upper arm to staunch the flow of blood where she had been cut in the naval battle.

Edward saw that she had finished dusting the inside of the boat with gunpowder and was strapping magazines to the benches. Roberts' corpse lay in the sand at her feet, wrapped in a cloth doused in lamp oil.

Mary turned her head at the sound of her friend's approaching footsteps, brushing her beads behind her ear. "Ready?" she asked.

He offered her the flask of rum, which she took and knocked back a moment. "Aye," he confirmed. "For the Sage's last rites, the three things he loved most in the world: strong drink, gold, and the sea." He handed her the other flask - the one containing the seawater he's just collected - before producing a single gold coin from his pocket. He held it out for her to hang on to, but she gestured that her hands were full. With a saucy grin, she leaned her head forward, mouth open invitingly, and with a smirk he placed the coin between her teeth. Turning away before he could let his thoughts drift, he carefully lifted Roberts' now rigid form into the powder-stacked dingy and laid him out to rest.

Mary sat on the edge of the boat opposite Edward and tucked a flask on either side of the body. Then she took the gold piece from between her lips and gingerly placed it on top of the cloth, about where his hands were folded over his stomach. "Leave this life for a lasting peace, down among the dead," she muttered before standing

Edward curled his fingers around the lip of the boat and pushed it back into the water, taking it out as far as he could without having to swim. They'd found a nice little cove to do this, one with a large, shallow area for wading that was also well sheltered from the view of ships on the ocean by means of tall, densely foliaged cliffs. When he looked back to shore, he spotted Mary climbing the one to his left as best as she could without pulling too much on her injured arm. Giving the Sage one final, heaving push out to sea, he slogged through the water to land and hurried to join her.

He found her leaning against a palm tree at the top of the slope with her arms crossed, staring out at the horizon. Back in the direction of the West Indies. The light of day was beginning to turn the waves from gray to hazy light blue, but he could sense that see too felt it was wrong. There was something comforting about the orange-pink morning waters that filled the bay at Great Inagua at dawn (something that they both loved) and this was not that. They yearned for the same place, the same semblance of home.

From where they stood, the _Jackdaw_'s flag – now flying a symbol of Edward's own design, a skull encircled by the Assassin insignia – could be seen over the tree tops, patrolling the area so their sepulture for Roberts would not be 'interrupted'. Below them, the powder-laden boat bobbed in the water, eerily peaceful.

"There's something about this, for me, that seems less final than the rest of my kills," Edward muttered after a long moment.

"Mmm? How so?" Mary asked without moving her gaze.

"I'm not precisely sure. It's as if we had some score left unsettled, though I know that there isn't. Whether he still owes me or I him, I'm unsure."

She turned to face him, her gaze scanning his bare torso while her fingers settled on his abdomen along the line of a short, ragged scar above his pelvis, sending a shiver up his spine. He looked away almost in shame. The blemish marked where he'd been impaled trying to escape the observatory after Roberts' betrayal, a wound that hadn't properly healed until well after his time in that stinking, unclean prison. It still infuriated him to think about it, as if he had been branded by all his failings in the previous years related to the folly that the Observatory had turned out to be. So many things might have been different if he'd never gained that injury, if he had been able to fight Roberts and his men, prevent his imprisonment. Anne might still be breathing, for one thing.

She lifted her other hand to cup his neck and pushed his chin straight ahead with her thumb, forcing him to look her in the eye. "Oi, hear me, Kenway. You owe that man nothing, all right? Not then. Not now. You each played a part in the others' life, aye, and maybe it was a large one, but that's done now." She pulled a pistol out of her belt and folded his hand around the grip. "So finish it."

Edward huffed, trying to breathe out the weight in his chest. He looked from the gun and back up to Mary, and the level intensity that he saw there knocked him right out of his slump. Always the guiding voice, she was, and always driving him in the right direction with her passion.

He turned to look at the boat far below them in the cove, still bouncing in the water that glittered in the sharp angle of the morning light. With a humorless smirk, he took aim and fired,

The boat broke into countless pieces, some soaring into the air in a fireball. Bits of wood and cloth burned on the waves, the flames steadfastly undaunted by the spray of water created by the explosion. Blood and chunks of flesh bobbed alongside the remains of the dingy, but nothing that wouldn't burn up or get eaten by marine life.

It was certainly a spectacle, and it put the Sage's blood and body out of reach of the Templars without question. Roberts would have been satisfied, Edward thought.

"You're free of any debt to him now, if there was one" Mary said with an assured nod at the wreckage. "You're free to do as you please, unhindered."

He put his arm around her shoulders and she leaned against him as they watched the flames dance across the water. " Then I think I'd like to go home."

* * *

**AN:**

As always, please review! Let me know if you'd like more fluff, more original plot angles, or whatever else suits your fancy.

Also I've fleshed out my idea for my Mary prequel a bit. Hoping to get to that sometime this decade. My plan is to finish this story, then do another round on all the other fics I'm neglecting for the sake of CWMN, THEN get to it. But I already have a title and the first three or four chapters mapped out. I'm excited!


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